The Little Things That Make Them Human
by SushiBomb
Summary: The rare moments inside the Varia mansion that outsiders never get to see. Range from Humor to Drama, pairings if any, vary by section. Rated T for language, content, themes, and general Varia shenanigans.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Haven't really been in that great of a mood lately, and it's been affecting my writing schedule. Don't worry, I am currently working on _Classified Information!_ As well as Chapter 2 of _A Consecutive Series of Misfortunes._ Just needed to post something for myself, to get back in the writing mindset.

Genres: Humor and drama, mainly.

Warnings: Language and general Varia shenanigans, themes.

Disclaimer: Sushi*Bomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. I am sad.

* * *

><p>01: Potty Mouth<p>

_(In which Fran is frustrated by bread's inability to be made of steel)_

* * *

><p>"Fran, would you hurry the fuck up with my sandwich? Jesus!" Belphegor snapped from his spot at the marble island. Squalo sat next to him, doing his best to ignore both the pounding headache he was developing and the fact that his orange juice was too pulpy.<p>

Fran turned around, peanut-butter spattered butterknife in hand. "I'm going as fast as I can, sempai. But the bread keeps ripping when I put the peanut-butter on." He said, the barest hint of annoyance creeping in his flat tone.

Bel rolled his eyes. "And I care because, why? Just hurry up. The prince is starving."

Fran sighed and turned back to the plate in front of him. "Yeah, yeah." He muttered as he reached for a new slice of bread.

He poised the knife at the edge of the bread slice, whistling to himself as he calmly smoothed a glob of peanut butter over the white surface. Just as he was almost at the other side….the bread tore, the corner crumbling off at an odd angle.

Fran made an irritated gurgling sound. "Goddamn this cock-sucking bread." He snapped.

Everyone looked at him in shock.

And then promptly erupted with laughter.

* * *

><p>02: Rapunzel<p>

_(In which Xanxus is being weird and Squalo thinks he might be drunk)_

* * *

><p>"Hey, trash." Xanxus began, voice unsettlingly even. Squalo unconsciously gulped, setting down his hair brush. "What is it?"<p>

Xanxus sighed in irritation as he walked further into the room. "Someone's been watering down my fucking booze again, that's what." He growled. Squalo resisted the urge to face palm. So that was the issue this time?

The swordsman picked up his brush and resumed detangling his wet, freshly washed hair. "Why the fuck is that my problem? Ah! Fuck!" He snarled as the brush caught a rather large knot. He heard Xanxus sigh, along with the other man's surprisingly soft footsteps padding along the carpet. He felt a set of hands yank both the brush and his hair out of his grip.

"How the fuck do you keep up with this girly ass hair anyway?" He heard Xanxus say more to himself than to Squalo as strong but nimble fingers began lithely coming through his hair. In a matter of minutes, the knot was detangled. Squalo sat stark still as Xanxus brushed the long, silver hair, a slightly concerned look on his face. After several indecisive minutes, Squalo turned to his boss.

"Voi, Xanxus, are you drunk or something?" He asked curiously. The lack of flames, rage, and most importantly, glass and tequila in his clean hair was a bit alarming to Squalo.

"No. What, I can't brush your bitch hair? Rapunzel?" The older man said, a hint of amusement in his voice. Squalo was dumbfounded. "Uh…yeah, sure. Whatever." He finished lamely, and the two sat in comfortable silence.

Squalo sincerely hoped the others were asleep, because if any of them walked by and saw this…surprisingly calm scene of domesticity, neither he, nor Xanxus would ever live it down.

* * *

><p>03: Calling Nurse Bel<p>

_(In which Fran questions the validity of Bel's alleged cooking skills.)_

* * *

><p>Belphegor had never been so insulted.<p>

How dare his uncute kohai blatantly reject the soup that he, Crown Prince Belphegor, had gone out of his elegant and royal way to make for him? An irritated pout snaked its way across the pale face as the blonde stared at the younger hitman, who was curled up on his bed, thick duvet pulled up to his chin, and a napkin held to his nose as he sneezed into it.

"Eat the fucking soup, Fran." He snapped. Fran gave him a blank look before staring down at the tray. After a minute or so, a pale hand crept out from under the duvet…and pushed the tray away.

"Sempai…I'm not eating this." Fran said tiredly. Belphegor growled. "What's wrong with it?"

"_You_ made it, for one." The illusionist simpered, voice low and congested sounding, a wet cough escaping him. "And no offense, sempai, but that's probably the grossest looking soup I've ever seen."

Belphegor made another irritated sound as he promptly rammed the tray back into the younger assassin's arms. "I will have you know that the prince is an excellent cook. This soup is a delicacy in my country."

Fran gave him a questionable look. "What weird ass country are you from? Because here in the civilized world, we eat food. "

"IT IS FOOD YOU JACKASS!" Belphegor screeched. Fran shook his head as he pulled the tray over to him. "Is there anything actually edible in there?"

"Che, of course there is. I couldn't get all of the ingredients though, so I improvised a little."

"Sempai, there's a huge difference between improvising and just throwing random things in."

Belphegor felt his face growing heated with annoyance. "I did not throw random things in!"

Fran made a curious noise as he stirred the oddly colored concoction. "But sempai, there's like bones and pubic hair floating around in it. Are you trying to feed me a human corpse or something?"

"NO!" Bel snapped. " It's a motherfucking stew from my motherfucking country! Now eat it or I'll stab you in your sleep!"

Fran stared at him blankly. "Well, I don't know what barbaric, medieval country you lumbered out of, but here in Italy, murdering people and grinding them into soup is not considered okay." Fran said knowingly.

Belphegor promptly picked up the soup bowl and dumped it over Fran's head before stomping out of the room.

Fran licked his lips. "Hmm…it's actually not bad." He said placidly to himself as he wiped himself off.

* * *

><p>04: Zombies<p>

_(In which Xanxus is not a scaredy cat and Bel is a little too excited)_

* * *

><p>"Blaaarhgh"<p>

"Ururrhggghh"

"Brains…"

"AAAAAAHHH!" The woman on screen screamed bloody murder as she barricaded herself in a small closet, a swarm of the undead dragging themselves after her. The flimsy door quickly gave way to the sheer mass of bodies pounding against it, the zombies pouring into the small room and grabbed at the shrieking woman, eagerly tearing into her flesh.

The members of the Varia all sat huddled around the big screen TV.

Squalo sat with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, not even blinking at the carnage as he casually popped a kernel in his mouth. Levi was seated next to him on the floor, also relatively unfazed by the gore. Belphegor lay on his stomach on the floor, eyes glued to the screen with a creepy, fascinated smile as the woman's intestines were graphically torn out of her body and consumed. Fran sat cross-legged to his left, nonchalantly reaching for the bowl of popcorn Bel had been hoarding through-out the movie (which Bel, despite his focus being completely on the screen, pushed just out of his reach, so Fran couldn't get any popcorn).

Lussuria hated horror movies, so he went out to a party for the night. Mammon was asleep.

And finally, the last and most important member of the assassination squad sat opposite Squalo on the couch, eyes wide and glued to the screen as he compulsively shoved fistfuls of popcorn into his mouth, very nearly chewing off his fingers in the process.

"Voi, you alright? You look a little pale." Squalo whispered to the dark-haired man. Xanxus scoffed. "Why the fuck wouldn't I be alright, scum?" He snapped back in his regular tone, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.

Squalo smirked as he popped a few kernels in his mouth. "Oh, no reason. It's just that this movie gets really gory later. Some of the zombies are really fucked up looking. I know how much you hate zombies." He said, voice laced with amusement.

The others looked back at Xanxus (except Bel, who was unabashedly turned on by all of the gore and blood on screen, laughing and clapping giddily as a man's leg was torn off), waiting to hear his retort.

Xanxus fixed his second in command with a scathing look. "I'm fine, trash. It's just a fucking movie."

The screen was eerily silent. The main characters of the movie were wandering in some dark building, searching for their lost friend or something like that. The members of the Varia all turned back to watch the movie, doing their best to ignore Bel, who was gnawing on his fingers with that fucking creepy smile on his face in excitement for the impending carnage, and focused on the screen.

Xanxus felt his pulse begin to quicken. Something was going to happen. He knew it. He shoved a fistful of popcorn into his mouth, the anticipation very nearly killing him.

It was too quiet.

Too quiet.

Well, if you tuned out Bel's creepy laughter.

Which Xanxus could, but barely, as his nerves were frying with each second.

"This movie sucks." Fran quipped from his perch on the floor, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to steal the bowl from Bel.

"_Has anyone seen Maria?"_

"Blararghhaahagh" said Maria as she popped out from underneath a truck, dragging the upper half of her body with her to bite a chunk out of her friend's calf, the screen instantly alive with agonizing screams.

The room was also alive with agonizing screams.

Xanxus's to be exact, before he threw his bowl in the air and flung himself over the back of the couch and ran out of the room.

Everyone sat blinking for a moment, trying to register what just happened.

Except Bel, who had begun to touch himself inappropriately.

* * *

><p>05: Taboo<p>

_(In which Fran crosses the line)_

* * *

><p>Sometimes, Fran could be such a little prick. Intentional or not. That was a known fact in the Varia.<p>

But there were some things you just never said out loud, no matter how true they were, and no matter how many times you'd been stabbed with creepy looking knives on a daily basis.

"Sempai, you look just like your brother when your hair's wet." Fran said one night when they were all sitting in the lounge. Bel froze instantly, clutching the wet towel in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"What the fuck did you just say?" He seethed, his hissing voice eerily low. The atmosphere in the room became very tense as the others stared between the two, Belphegor standing in the doorway, bare-chested and dripping from his shower, and Fran casually seated in his favorite recliner with a book in his hands.

"I said you look like your brother with your hair wet. It's a bit unsettling." Fran repeated bluntly. Whether he was aware of the murderous aura radiating from the blonde prince or not was anyone's guess.

The others watched as Bel took in a shaky breath, arm visibly trembling. Mentions of Belphegor's family was an unspoken taboo in the Varia headquarters, right up there with Xanxus's gypsy heritage and Lussuria's mother.

But then again, Fran never had much respect for taboos.

Belphegor said nothing, his chest rising and falling a bit quicker than usual as he tried to sort out his anger.

Fran studied him disinterestedly before turning a page in his book. "What? You mad or something?" He snipped, voice uncaring and nonchalant, waiting for the hissing laugh and barrage of knives.

None came.

The room was deathly silent as the members of the Varia watched the disquieting spectacle between their two youngest members. Belphegor was unnervingly blank, his usual grin replaced by a small frown.

Fran sat in his spot, staring at the blonde.

At that moment, Belphegor opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then closed it again, and abruptly stormed out of the room. They could hear the sound of the very large (and very expensive) vase down the hall shattering.

Fran shrugged. "I guess he was," he said with a small smile on his blank face.

He knew what Bel had wanted to say then.

_Mammon would never say something so horrible._

* * *

><p><em>Hope you guys enjoyed this. I'll try to get writing again soon, I promise. There's a part two to this, I'll post it tomorrow or something. I swear.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the nice reviews last chapter guys, it's always appreciated. Here is part two, as promised. By the way, sorry for all of the grammatical errors last chapter. I typed that in like an hour before I went to work, so I had to skimp on the editing for once. I'll tell you, seeing all of those retarded misspellings hurt me a lot more than it hurt you all.

I should mention that there's not a set amount of sections per chapter. There's only four this time. But it'll vary from chapter to chapter. It'll range from three to six shorts per chapter, I guess. Anyway, enjoy!

Warnings: Language, content, and general Varia-ness. Go nuts.

Disclaimer: Sushi*Bomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. I write because I have no life. Wah.

* * *

><p>06: Phones and Vodka<p>

_(In which the Varia are shining beacons of professionalism)_

* * *

><p>The members of the Varia all sat lazily around in Belphegor's bedroom, the reason for that being that the air conditioning in the lounge was malfunctioning and Bel's room happened to be closest, not to mention it was dark and frigidly cool.<p>

They were all quite drunk; the Varia work week ended on Friday, leaving ample time for them to get horribly smashed and sober before the next Monday rolled around, and Lussuria had acquired not two, but three bottles of some gratuitously Russian vodka on sale from their (Xanxus's) favorite liquor store.

And when they got drunk together…things got…interesting. The Varia may have been the most elite assassins in the entire world, but that didn't mean they were above drunken prank calls at two in the morning.

"Call this one!"

"No, no, this one first!"

"Ushishi~ shush they're answering!"

"_**Hello, this is 24-Hour Fitness, Andre speaking, how may I help you?" **_ A friendly male voice said on the other line.

"Hi Andre, quick question," Bel paused briefly to snicker drunkenly.

"_**Sure, go right ahead!" **_The cheerful man said unsuspectingly. Belphegor took a calm breath before returning to the cordless phone to his ear, trying to keep his tone even -and failing miserably.

*snort* "What time do you close?"

"…_**Excuse me?"**_

"Bye beeeee~" and with that, Bel hung up, immediately joining the others in a round of raucous laughter.

"Alright, who's next? Here Fran, you do one." Bel said giddily as he tossed the phone at Fran, who suddenly looked unsure of himself. "Aw come on sempai, I suck at this."

The prince scoffed. "You suck at a lot of things, jackass. So what?"

"Here, call this one." Lussuria slid in diplomatically before an argument began. Fran punched in the number slowly, thinking about what he was going to say as the phone rang on the other line.

After three rings, someone answered. _**"Hello?"**_ A sleepy voice asked. Fran picked at a loose thread in his sleeping pants absently before responding. "Good evening sir, I was just curious…is your refrigerator running?"

The others gave him a disbelieving look. Fran shrugged apathetically.

The person on the line remained silent for several seconds before sighing loudly. _**"Is that the best you can do? Or is your pea-sized brain too overridden with alcohol to even prank call someone properly?" **_The person asked snarkily.

"What?" Fran asked, "I actually like that joke, asshole. It's a classic."

The person scoffed arrogantly. _**"What an amateur. Get a goddamn life."**_

The others watched curiously as Fran's eyebrows furrowed slightly, the barest hint of a pout forming on his face.

"Only if you get a goddamn sense of humor." He retorted. The man on the line chuckled condescendingly.

"_**My sense of humor's just fine. This pathetic prank call is enough of a joke."**_

Fran made a noise like he had been greatly insulted. "Sir, I will hunt you down and skin your dog. And then I'll shit on your lawn."

"_**Excuse me? What the hell is wrong with you? You better pray I never find your phone number. My son is a lawyer!"**_

"So what? I'll shit on him too."

"_**YOU'RE PATHETIC!"**_

"Yeah, well...your mom's a whore. Bye."

And with that, Fran casually hung up the phone, looking relatively smug for someone who just got told off by someone he was supposed to be pranking. The others said nothing, as they were too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

* * *

><p>07: Warm and Chewy<p>

_(In which everything is Lussuria's cookies and nothing hurts)_

* * *

><p>Lussuria's chocolate chip cookies were worth quadruple their weight in gold. At least.<p>

To anyone on the outside, that would've simply been a matter of opinion. But within the concrete walls of the Varia headquarters, it was a cold, hard fact. As far as the members of the Varia were concerned, Lussuria's cookies had to be included somewhere in the bible, because they swore that the angels sang when Lussuria pulled a giant tray of those heavenly little confections fresh out of the oven.

"Get 'em while they're warm boys~!" Lussuria cooed from inside the kitchen. Like clockwork, a stampede of charging footsteps was heard from every area in the house, and not two minutes later, the other members of the Varia barreled through each of the two entrances to the kitchen like a herd of wildebeasts on the African savannah, practically running over each other to get to the plate of cookies first.

Lussuria fanned himself giddily as he watched his teammates kick, scratch, bite, shoot, stab, skewer, fry, burn, and mindfuck each other, colorful and creative insults being hurled left, right, and sideways over the innocent plate of cookies.

"Enjoy everyone! I know how much you all love them warm and dripping~!" Lussuria said suggestively. The obvious innuendo was lost on his comrades however, as they were too busy stuffing themselves full of cookies.

Less than ten minutes later, the five of them sat in various spots in the kitchen, mouths covered with chocolate and their zippers down to give their bloated stomachs space to expand comfortably.

Lussuria smile fondly.

The only thing greater than the Varia's bloodlust was their sweet tooth.

"…I think I just met Jesus…" he heard Squalo mutter from his perch on top of the marble island, where he was lying on his back. Belphegor made a suspiciously sexual noise as he took another bite of the last cookie on the plate.

"I can't eat another bite…" Levi groaned. A chorus of similar lines echoed around the kitchen.

The oven suddenly gave a little 'ding!'

"Who wants more cookies~?"

That plate was clean in a matter of seconds. There's always room for Luss's cookies.

**Always.**

* * *

><p>08: Dancing Queen<p>

_(In which no one wants to be seen in public with Squalo)_

* * *

><p>Xanxus sighed in irritation as he knocked back the last of his tequila. The furious pounding in his left temple was nearly unbearable on its own, nevermind with the pulsing music of the nightclub amplifying it.<p>

Levi, naturally, sat dutifully to his right, bottle of tequila at the ready should Xanxus request another shot. Xanxus abhorred being dragged to these flashy, ridiculous clubs by his moronic subordinates. He hated the loud music, the scantily clad women drunkenly throwing themselves at him (well, to be fair, he wouldn't have minded as much if they had been the slightest bit attractive, but they weren't so it was damn annoying.) He hated watching Lussuria flirt with the very obviously homosexual bartender (even if he did get free drinks out of it). He hated watching Belphegor dance like a goddamn stripper, sandwiched between two people he had never met in his life, and he hated watching Fran sit at the opposite end of the bar, awkwardly slinging cheesy pick-up lines at chicks, and, more incredibly, actually getting phone numbers.

But above all else…he hated it when Squalo started dancing. Not because he looked so seductive and ravishing and cool as he lost himself in the music, too intoxicated to give a crap about what was going on around him…quite the opposite in fact.

It was just… _unfortunate._

And what made it worse was that the drunker the swordsman got, the more atrocious and dated his dancing became, not to mention the fact that Squalo seemed to be impervious to any sort of fatigue. He'd dance all night if they let him. He'd already boogied his way through two hours' worth of techno, for Christ's sake.

Xanxus chanced a peak over his shoulder, scoping out the mass of moving bodies for his hopelessly intoxicated second-in-command. It didn't take long to spot him, since Squalo was right smack in the middle of the dance floor, flailing and gyrating like he was having some sort of epileptic seizure.

Xanxus rolled his eyes.

At least he wasn't doing full-on choreography like last time.

A head of blonde entered his line of sight, and soon, Bel was seated casually on his left, hailing the bartender for a Disaronno on the rocks.

"Having a good time here drinking, boss?" He asked with his trademark smile as he adjusted his tiara. Xanxus leveled him with a withering glare.

"Are you fucking kidding? I've been ready to leave this dump since we got here." The varia boss snapped. Bel's smile morphed into a small frown.

"Oh..." He began dejectedly,"Uh...we can leave then, the prince has had his fun anyway." He said with a shrug as he sipped his drink. Right on cue, Fran appeared to Bel's left, a pretty blonde girl hooked on his arm.

"Are we leaving yet?" He asked before saying something in what sounded like French to the girl.

Xanxus frowned. _How in the hell did a dork like Fran snag that bombshell? _Xanxus thought to himself irately. It was one of the great mysteries of life, he supposed with an apathetic shrug.

"I'm tired as fuck. We're leaving." He snapped as he downed yet another shot of tequila. Levi tore Lussuria away from the bartender, the flamboyant men blowing extremely heterosexual kisses at each other.

"Where's Squalo?" Lussuria asked. Everyone pointed in the direction of the dancefloor, where the long-haired swordsman had progressed into one of those embarrassing 80's dance crazes. Fran made a pained noise.

"Ah, there's that groundbreaking choreography the long-haired commander is known for." He quipped sarcastically, while Bel snorted loudly, imitating the rain guardian's drunken version of the 'running man.'

Xanxus stood up from the bar and made for the door. "If you morons aren't outside in five minutes, you're walking home." He snapped before stomping away, clutching his head. Levi, of course, ran after him like the faithful servant he was.

The remaining members all looked at each other. Who would volunteer to go fetch Squalo from the floor _this_ time?

"One, two, three, NOT IT!"

"NOT IT~!"

"NOT –dammit man!" Bel snapped. "I always have to get him!"

Fran and Lussuria shrugged pitilessly. "Sucks to be you." Fran quipped before wandering away with his big-breasted date towards the exit. Lussuria made to follow him, but not before giving Bel one last warning over his shoulder.

"Just get him Bel, before boss leaves us behind!" Lussuria chided.

Belphegor rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll go grab the 'Lord of the Dance' then, jeez." He grumbled as he abruptly made an about face and stomped haughtily onto the dance floor, forcefully shoving his way through the throng of sweaty drunk people to get to his comrade.

**Three minutes later.**

"Where's Squalo?"

"He can get a taxi."

"What happened?"

Belphegor's mouth curled in distaste. "He was trying to do 'the worm'. I'm sorry, but the prince can't be seen in public with him."

* * *

><p>09: Respect<p>

_(In which Fran comes to understand Bel a little better)_

* * *

><p>Fran wasn't sure what to do. He may have been a bit of a prick, and Belphegor may have been completely and utterly deserving of every single rude comment Fran made to him, but…<p>

The mist guardian rubbed his bare elbow awkwardly as he walked out from behind the tree he had been hiding behind until now. The blonde made no movement to indicate he was aware of the younger hitman's presence, though Fran was certain that the dull grey eyes veiled by that famous fringe were eyeing him curiously.

Fran stopped next to him, still holding his arm to himself protectively. His green eyes looked away from the older assassin sitting on the ground to the conservative marble tombstone in front of them. Bel was seated directly in front of the grave, arms holding his bent legs against his chest, his chin resting on one knee.

The mint-haired youth scuffed the gravel under his boot uncomfortably, unsure of how to deal with the somber tension hanging in the air between them. Consoling people, least of all _Belphegor_, wasn't right up there on his list of 'Things Fran is good at,' to be honest, but in that very instance, his silence seemed almost inappropriate. Fran felt like he should say something, _anything_, to show some semblance of human emotion.

He noticed the small bouquet of soft, white roses settled gently in the flower holder affixed to the marble tombstone.

Fresh flowers.

Despite himself, a small, melancholy smile snaked its way onto his face. "Mammon-san was really important to you, wasn't he?" He blurted out suddenly.

Bel shifted his obscured gaze up towards the replacement illusionist, mouth still set in a grim line. After several silent seconds, a nearly imperceptible smile crept onto the prince's face.

"Yeah, he was." He said somberly, before turning his head back to the grave, lost in his thoughts. Fran's lip twitched, the young man uncertain on how to proceed. But for once, he realized that he didn't need to say anything.

It was _okay_ not to say anything.

Fran wiped his slightly sweaty palms on his uniform pants and took a seat next to the mourning prince. He knew that once they got back to the mansion, Bel would immediately make swiss cheese out of him for intruding on a very private and personal moment, and that he would inevitably be labeled 'the replacement' yet again. But for now, he would just sit with the older man, and show him that he understood what it was like to lose someone close to you.

Just this once, he would keep his mouth zipped, and pay his respects to his mysterious predecessor.

* * *

><p>I hope I'm not the only one who cried for the last one. I don't know about you guys, but writing about death makes me very sad.<p>

Anyway, next chapter'll be up within the next couple of days. This is my main project for the week, by the way, so I don't drive myself up the wall bouncing from story to story. I'll resume work on everything else next week. I promise. Seriously. Legit.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Whoo baby I'm on a roll! Here's chapter three!

Thanks for all of the wonderful reviews guys. I'm glad you all are enjoying this. It seems that the things I write literally just for fun end up being the most popular. But I'm okay with that!

Oh and to the reviewer that asked about the collab: I'm sorry, but I must respectfully decline. Thanks for the offer though.

Warnings: The usual. I mean _really_.

Disclaimer: See previous chapters, since I'm lazy and no one reads the disclaimer anyway.

* * *

><p>10: OMGGG<p>

_(In which Levi is caught slacking on the job)_

* * *

><p>A devious little smile crept its way onto Bel's face.<p>

Oh this was just too perfect.

He stood in the doorway, perfectly silent as he watched the older man, laughing to himself.

"Oh ho ho baby, that's how you do it!" Levi said to himself, praising the woman on the computer screen, oblivious to the prince calmly walking up behind him, socked feet making no noise on the carpeted floor. Bel was the lightest on his feet, so if he wanted to remain undetected, he could do so quite easily.

He came to stand directly behind Levi, watching the screen in amusement as he casually twirled one of his trademark knives in his hand. The woman on the screen was doing some sort of striptease, and was currently topless and in the process of sliding out of her very scant underwear.

She was pretty, Bel supposed, but not nearly as attractive as the woman he had murdered late the evening before. _Her boobs looked so very lovely covered in blood,_ he thought to himself with a large smile.

On screen, the woman was fully nude and touching herself seductively as she danced in front of the camera, the grin on Levi's face growing wider as she came closer.

Bel just stared at him. He almost felt sorry for Levi…but he was bored, so fuck it. Besides, Levi drank the last beer yesterday, and Bel was still pissed about that.

The prince cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

"OH MY GOD LEVI ARE YOU LOOKING AT TITTIES WHEN YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING THAT MISSION REPORT FOR XANXUS?"

He couldn't have asked for a better reaction.

The older man screamed and sputtered as he scrambled to shut down the computer, babbling a lengthy string of incomprehensible mumbo-jumbo, with the odd 'sorry' and 'boss' peppered in. He shot up from the seat and all but bolted out of the room, nearly knocking over the PC tower in his panic.

Bel just laughed hysterically.

Served the pervert right.

* * *

><p>11: Pierced (Pt.1)<p>

_(In which Lussuria is adamant and Fran just can't say no)_

* * *

><p>"I'm not so sure about this Lussu-nee-san…" Fran said from the seat as the heavily tattooed man prepped his needle. Lussuria gyrated dramatically in the corner, causing the man to look at him a bit strangely.<p>

"Oh come on Fran, darling~! You'll look so hot with a tongue piercing! And they're by one get one free, so I'm getting a second one!" Lussuria assured him. Fran stared at him blankly before sighing.

_How do I get myself into these situations? _He thought to himself grimly.

When he had said that he wanted to liven up his appearance a bit…this wasn't exactly what he had in mind. But since Lussuria had bought him lunch earlier, he felt obligated to go through with this. It could be interesting, and he had a slight oral fixation anyway, so why not?

But that needle looked pretty big…

"Is this gonna hurt?" He blurted out, his deadpanned expression belying the nervous edge in his voice. The man chuckled affably, his smile surprisingly soft despite his intimidating biker gang appearance.

"Not as bad as you're imagining. Trust me. It feels a bit like when you bite your tongue really hard, that's all." He said, poking out his own pierced tongue. Fran gulped unconsciously.

That didn't make him feel any better.

He bit his tongue all the time, and _that_ hurt like hell.

The man walked up to him and grabbed his chin gingerly. "Alright kid, open up. We'll do this nice and easy."

Fran hesitantly opened his mouth and poked his tongue out.

"You're doing fine." The man said reassuringly as he clamped the pink muscle with a set of round tongs. It felt slightly awkward, since he was beginning to drool a little, and the pressure on his tongue made him feel a bit nauseous for some reason.

And Lussuria's flamboyant cheering in the background was _not_ helping.

"Alright, here we go." The man said as he poised the intimidatingly thick needle over Fran's tongue, right in the center of the circular clamp. The man repositioned it a couple of times, before it was finally centered just right.

"Ready?"

Fran shook his head as he pinched his eyes shut.

"One…two…three!"

"MMMPHH!"

"Oh Ramon~! You're a genius!"

* * *

><p>12: Deaf<p>

_(In which Squalo acquires yet another endearing nickname)_

* * *

><p>Levi was getting a bit annoyed.<p>

Not because Belphegor had eaten his croissant right off of his plate and laughed like the little troll he was, or because Lussuria had scolded him for getting mud all over the tiled foyer that he had just mopped up, or even because Mammon had charged him a hell of a fee for knocking over his stack of phonebooks.

It was because Xanxus and Squalo were arguing about something. Thankfully, it wasn't anything serious or important, for once (they were actually in a heated discussion about some kind of car engine and something about horsepower).

More specifically, Levi was annoyed because he needed to ask Squalo a very important question about his target for that afternoon, since Squalo was the one who briefed everyone on their missions. However, when Xanxus and Squalo got into these 'deep' discussions, it was hard to get either of them to listen.

But Levi would try, because he his mission depended on it.

"Excuse me, uh, Commander Squalo." He started, only to be completely ignored as the two continued shouting at each other.

"Squalo!" He said, a little louder. Instead, he gained the attention of Belphegor, who decided to be helpful by throwing a piece of rigatoni at Squalo's face. The swordsman growled something incomprehensible at the smirking blonde, but before Levi could garner his attention, he was back to shouting about this 'fast ass european car' he had seen the other day.

To the swordsman's right, Fran sat quietly eating some spinach dish Lussuria had made just for him, looking a bit annoyed at the unnecessarily loud conversation occurring less than a foot to his left.

"Oi, Fran!" Levi started. The illusionist looked over at him. "What?" He asked flatly.

"Get Squalo for me." He snapped impatiently. Fran stared at him blankly before turning to the loud rain guardian.

"Hey long-haired commander, Levi-san wants you."

Of course, he too was ignored. Bel, who was finished with his lunch, decided to chime in. "Ey! Squ-chan! HELLOOOO!" He shouted, also to no avail.

"Squalo!"

"Long-haired commander!"

"Squ-squ!"

"Strategy Commander Squalo~"

_Jeez, is he hard of hearing or something? _Fran thought to himself.

"Squalo!"

"Squalo! For fuck's sake!"

"Grandpa!"

Squalo rounded on the mist illusionist, teeth bared in a snarl. "Voi! What the hell is it Fran?"

A beat passed.

Everyone gave Squalo a strange look.

"…why did you answer to grandpa?"

* * *

><p>13: Save Face<p>

_(In which Fran actually gives a compliment and ends up getting thrown in a pool)_

* * *

><p>It was something that Fran had never really given any serious thought to, to be truthful. Sure, he thought it was kind of weird that Belphegor wore his bangs so long; long enough to obscure half of his face completely from view…but then again, Bel was kind of weird <em>anyway<em>, so after the first week or so with the Varia, Fran put the prince's odd quirk out of his mind forever. Everyone in the Varia had weird hair in some way (his was pastel green for Christ's sake), so it wasn't something he felt the need to dwell on back then.

But now, two years later, it seemed like he was the only one out of the loop.

It was something Lussuria had said at dinner the previous night.

"Oh~! I wish I had those gorgeous eyelashes of yours, Bel. Some people are so lucky!" The sun guardian whined dramatically. The blonde just smiled arrogantly, basking in his self-importance at the compliment.

"Of course you do, Ushishi~! Every part of the prince is perfect." He said superciliously as he ran a hand through his hair.

Fran mentally rolled his eyes at the older man's conceit. _What a pompous ass_, he thought to himself in annoyance, before realizing something.

If Lussuria had seen Bel's eyelashes, that meant that he had obviously seen Bel's face too. And for some reason, no one else seemed to the least bit surprised by that. Fran pouted slightly as the gears in his mind began to turn uncontrollably.

Had everyone seen Belphegor's face before? They must have, since Squalo promptly responded to the prince by telling him how girly his face was.

The mist guardian was suddenly a bit annoyed. He couldn't really explain why apparently being the only one seated at the table who had no idea what Bel looked like bothered him; he just assumed it was because his natural need to know everything so he didn't look like an idiot was making itself known.

Or maybe he was just genuinely curious.

Either way, when he saw Lussuria in the kitchen the next night after dinner, he asked him about it.

As casually as possible, of course.

"Hey Lussu-nee-san, how do you know what Bel-sempai's eyelashes look like anyway? I thought he never showed his face to anyone?" Fran began nonchalantly over a glass of iced tea. Lussuria made a curious noise as he chopped a watermelon at the counter.

"We've all seen Bel's face, honey. It's not really a big secret or anything…" He said matter-of-factly. Fran took a sip of his ice tea before continuing.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah~! He's such a little cutie!"

Fran gave the older man a deadpanned stare. "I'm sure he's precious, Lussu-nee-san."

"Why do you ask?" Lussuria rebounded quickly. Fran suddenly felt unsure. He didn't really have a good reason for asking, other than he was just curious, and knowing Lussuria, he was sure the flamboyant martial artist was already planning out his and Bel's honeymoon.

After a three minute mental debate, Fran just decided to be honest. "I was just curious, because I've never seen his face before, that's all." He said with a shrug. Lussuria finished up the melon and put it into a bowl.

"Well, to be fair, the only reason Bel showed us was because Squalo and Levi were arguing about what he looked like. He didn't want us thinking he was some sort of alien or anything."

Fran gave him an odd look. "When was that?"

Lussuria laughed softly to himself as he took a seat across from Fran. "Oh that was a long time ago, when Bel first joined up with us. But you know, after a while, he just sort of stopped caring if we saw him."

Fran's eyebrows rose slightly. "Really?"

Lussuria nodded. "Yep! We just took that to mean that he was comfortable with us."

Fran just nodded as he sipped his iced tea, processing the information. Lussuria gave an amicable chuckle.

"Don't worry Fran," he began as he got up to leave the kitchen, "you'll see it too. It's only a matter of time."

Fran shrugged apathetically and chugged the rest of his iced tea.

Turns out, it was actually much sooner than he thought.

Three days later, to be exact, when Fran received a distressed text message from the prince.

'_Hey asshole I left my towel upstairs. Bring it down to the pool.'_

With an eye-roll, Fran snagged the towel from Bel's bedroom and walked as slowly as he could to the other side of the mansion where the pool was located, hoping that with every single second he took, the prince was that much closer to catching a cold.

Well, he had to arrive sometime, and sure enough, as he walked out onto the pool deck, Bel snapped at him for making him get back in the pool to avoid freezing.

"What the hell took you so long? It's fucking freezing out here!"

"Well why are you out here at eleven at night, dumb-prince?"

Belphegor swam up to the side of the pool and rested his folded his arms on the marble border.

"Because I was doing laps, that's why. I like doing them at night before I go to sleep. Not that I need to explain myself to _you_ of all people."

"Whatever." Fran said blankly as he walked to the edge of the pool. "Here."

Belphegor dunked his head under the water to warm himself in preparation for exposure to the chilly evening air. After a few seconds the prince surfaced, wiping excess water off of his face as he blindly reached for his towel.

When he didn't feel the soft material in his hand, he looked up with a mildly annoyed expression.

"Give me the damn towel!"

But his words were lost on Fran, who was suddenly staring at him quite intently. After several silent minutes, Bel growled in annoyance.

"What are you staring at?"

Fran opened his mouth to say something and then quickly closed it again, instead crouching down to hand Bel his towel. Just as Bel reached out for it, Fran pulled back, still staring at him with that odd expression.

"Will you quit fucking around and give me my towel?"He snapped.

Fran eyed him curiously, head tilted to one side as he studied him. Belphegor was beginning to feel a bit unnerved. He felt like some sort of specimen in the lab of a mad scientist, waiting for Fran to come and pull his wings off or something.

Fran, on the other hand, was feeling a sense of both accomplishment and intrigue. When Bel came back up for air, his hair was slicked back, reaching just a bit above his shoulders, the water-logged strands an entire shade darker.

And his face was on full display.

Fran eyes wandered over the prince's exposed face, committing ever little detail to memory, almost wishing he had a camera or something, because chances were he'd probably never see it again.

As much of an asshole as Bel was, Fran had to admit that, if they had met under different circumstances, he probably would've made a pass at him. Belphegor had a nice, heart-shaped face, with pale, unblemished skin, regal cheekbones, nicely shaped eyebrows, and thick, dark eyelashes. (Fran understood then why Lussuria had been so jealous of Bel's eyelashes. They were, in reality, quite nice.)

"Fran?" Bel said quietly, now completely weirded out by the illusionist's silence.

But Fran found the prince's eyes to be the most fascinating. Grey eyes weren't very common in Italy. Actually, he realized, he hadn't ever met anyone with grey eyes. They were really light too, almost white, which Fran found quite curious.

A bit creepy looking, but in a pretty way, Fran thought, and oddly, grey was a very fitting color for the prince, he realized. Nothing was ever black and white with Belphegor, just varying shades of grey.

To be perfectly honest, with a face like that, if it wasn't for the fact that Bel was a psychopath with an insatiable bloodlust, he probably could've made a living as a model. One of those really androgynous ones like in the expensive high fashion magazines M.M. used to have lying around her studio back in Paris.

But, it was what it was.

Bel was a certified nutcase, and he belonged in the Varia.

"Fran! For fuck's sake, give me my goddamn towel!" Bel snapped as he splashed the illusionist back into reality. Fran calmly wiped his face off as he relinquished the towel. The prince snatched it from him thanklessly after heaving himself up out of the pool, teeth chattering audibly.

"About time, jackass. Why the hell were you staring me like that anyway? Do you wanna fuck me or something?"

He looked over his shoulder at Fran, who was in the process of standing up as well. He was still unnervingly quiet, glancing up at him every few seconds.

"No, it's just…"

"What?"

"Hmmm…you have a really girly face, sempai."

Belphegor blinked once. Twice. Face perfectly blank. Nearly as blank as Fran's, in fact.

"Girly?"

"Yeah. It's so delicate. If I saw you on the street, I wouldn't think you were a crazy murderer. How misleading."

Bel's smile tightened in irritation.

Fran discovered that that accursed frog hat gains an extra ten pounds when thoroughly soaked with water.

* * *

><p>Damn, that last one was long as hell! haha Well, whatever, I hope you all enjoyed it anyway.<p>

Next section will be up tomorrow, I guess, since I'm being so diligent with my updates for once. Is there a full moon? Oh wait no, it's still the beginning of the month.

Anyway, read and review!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Okay…so I wasn't on a roll. But here's the next part, although it's only one short this time. I was kinda sick this weekend…that and I didn't feel like writing all that much, but I'm working on others, so next chapter will have more. But this one, I felt, should stand alone. I actually wrote Bel in canon for once. Enjoy, loves.

Warnings: Violence, Content, mild gore, I guess, you know, Bel being his sadistic self.

Disclaimer: Sushi*Bomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

* * *

><p>14: Bloodsport<p>

_(In which an apex predator hunts for his next kill)_

* * *

><p>Salerno had always been his favorite hunting ground.<p>

It was close enough so that it wouldn't take him long to get there and commence his hunt, but still far enough so that the beautifully messy results of his nightly activities wouldn't be splattered all over the local news in Naples.

The weather was nice; a little cool for that time of year, but Bel rather liked that. He detested getting sweaty when he went out on his little hunts, especially when he was in the middle of a kill.

But what Bel liked most of all was the wonderful diversity of potential _victims_.

The blonde prince hid up on the roof of an old apartment building, sitting on the ledge with his legs folded indian-style as he watched the people below walk by. One of his trademark blades was being twirled in his hand idly.

He only had time for one tonight, so he needed a good one.

A screamer.

Those were his absolute favorites.

Their screams made the kill so much more intense. _And satisfying._

He enjoyed the prospecting nearly as much as he enjoyed the actual pursuit.

Hidden grey eyes bounced from face to face, quickly studying each person as they walked by. Bel loved envisioning all of the different scenarios; visions of blood and limbs flying flashing before his eyes quickly before turning to the next person. He felt his pulse quicken with each gruesome fantasy. He could feel his body become physically excited by his growing need; his breathing was shallow, his face felt a bit flushed, and hell, he might've been a little excited _downstairs_ too.

But Bel ignored it.

That wasn't the kind of release he was seeking on this night.

He didn't know yet exactly what type of person he was looking for, but Bel always let his instinct guide him. He was the predator, and they were the prey. He had the power. He held their tiny, inconsequential lives in the palm of his hand, and the sheer thought of it drove electrifying shivers up his spine, nearly throwing him into a frenzy.

_Patience,_ _Prince Belphegor_, he thought to himself calmly, grinning widely.

_Take your time. They have to be just right._

He would know his ideal kill when he saw it.

Nearly an hour passed before he found his perfect victim.

A woman. Slightly intoxicated, by the looks of it. She smiled dopily to herself as she staggered down the block, barely keeping her balance in the flashy, hot pink stiletto pumps on her feet.

The prince's Cheshire cat grin widened so much it nearly split his face.

She wouldn't be able to run too far in _those_.

Which was unfortunate, Bel thought, because he loved the chase. But he would go without it, just this once. She was much too perfect physically to pass up.

The prince lazily slid from the rooftop, moving noiselessly in the darkness, sleek and agile like a feline. He leaped stealthily from balcony to balcony, studying his intended target.

She was beautiful, truthfully. Probably a call girl of some sort, judging by the scant, yet obviously high quality clothing she wore, not to mention the pricey designer bag hanging in the crook of her forearm.

_Definitely screwing some high-powered people._ Bel thought. The top few buttons of her white blouse were undone, exposing the swell of her milky chest, which was bound in a tight, black bustier. Almost as black as her long, wavy hair, which hung loosely down her back. The blonde bit his lip as he mentally commended himself for making such a fine choice.

Bel had a thing for women in sexy lingerie. Dead or not.

Her skirt was a bit short for his liking; he preferred to let his imagination run wild, but the high-waisted business skirt flaunted the voluptuous curve of her hips perfectly, so he would make an exception in this case.

He ran ahead of her and jumped down to a lower balcony, balancing elegantly on the thin metal railing.

She had not spotted him yet, of course, (what kind of elite hitman would he be if she had?) and Bel's smile grew predatory as he drank up the view of his target from the front. His eyes followed the soft sway of her hips as she walked, her bright green eyes half-lidded and sleepy as she came closer. His body felt warm with anticipation.

He hadn't killed a beautiful woman in such a long time.

His finger twitched again. The prince slid his hand into one of his pockets, fingering one of the oddly-shaped knives stashed away.

Bel stood up and walked along the railing, idly twirling a knife in his hand. She was directly below him now, fishing for something in her purse. He could smell the subtle but expensive scent of her perfume, and the sweet smell made his eyes roll back in his head from his insane desire. His control was slipping very quickly.

Belphegor strung together a trio of knives._ Now, how to catch her. Slit her Achilles' Tendons?_ He pondered as he walked along the railing, tapping the knife to his lips pensively. _Or maybe perhaps by the neck? Like a noose. Yeah. That could be interesting._

With a shark-like grin, the prince threw his knives, none hitting their target of course, but then again, that was not their intended purpose. Yet.

The woman was so focused on finding whatever it was she was looking for, she didn't notice the shiny weapons whizzing around her, nor did she notice the gleam of the wire in the moonlight.

_People walking alone should pay better attention to their surroundings._ The prince thought to himself knowingly. With a hissing laugh, Belphegor pulled the wire taut as the woman walked into it, the sharp edge of the wire slicing into her neck as she walked into it. The distressed gurgling sounds of the woman gasping for breath and clutching at her now bleeding throat nearly drove Belphegor over the edge of sanity.

He jumped down in front of the bleeding call girl, a look of mock-concern on his face. Naturally, she hadn't noticed him come out of nowhere.

"Hey lady, are you alright?"

The woman looked at him dazedly as she staggered towards the prince, desperately trying to form words_. She can't though_, Bel thought with a mental smile, _her vocal chords are shredded_.

There wouldn't be any screams echoing through the city that night, but the sheer amount of blood spurting from the severed artery in her neck more than made up for it.

"Help..ahuhhh" She managed to say, her words sputtering out along with a thick spurt of blood that dribbled down her chin. Her blouse, once a nice, crisp white, was now stained bright red with vibrant arterial blood. Under his veil of hair, Belphegor's eyes widened in sadistic delight.

_Beautiful._ He thought proudly.

She reached for him, and he mockingly held out a hand and pulled her against him. She looked almost grateful in her semiconscious state; her face was deathly pale and she was visibly growing weaker as the seconds ticked by, but she still clung to him tightly, silently begging for help.

"...He-hel-aaahh..." She stuttered, blinking back tears of fear, pain, and desperation. Bel pulled her flush against him, relishing the feeling of her warm blood soaking his shirt. He shushed her soothingly, patting her hair to calm her down.

"Shhh, it's alright,"He cooed into her ear quietly as he smoothed down her matted, bloodied hair, "I'll take _perfectly good_ care of you." His lip twitched a bit, the prince unable to keep the Cheshire cat smile from creeping onto his face.

"You'll look so gorgeous splattered all over the wall," He said dreamily as he stroked her hair, "Congrats on being lucky number four, Ushishi~!" He hissed with a chuckle into her ear. He could feel the woman instantly tense in his vice-like grip, gurgling and clutching at her neck as she tried to push away from him.

He pulled her hand away from her neck viciously to inspect the result of his ambush. She was bleeding profusely from the deep gash that ran all the way across the front side of her neck. It wasn't deep enough to slice completely through her neck; the wire wasn't that strong, or that sharp, but it had done a fine job of severing her artery.

Bel smiled widely at her. "Does it hurt?" He asked with mock innocence, all the while tightening his grip around her waist. But it appeared the woman still had a bit of fight left in her. She brought a hand up and clawed at his face blindly with her long fingernails, catching the assassin's cheek. Bel hissed as he released her, holding his cheek in mild shock.

She staggered away as quickly as she could, make-up running down her bloodied face as she cried silent tears.

Bel pulled his hand away from his cheek. It was stained with blood. _His_ blood. A manic smile spread like an infectious disease across the prince's face. His breathing quickened in excitement, a hissing laugh escaping him as he pawed giddily at his face.

"Oh I'm bleeding, I'm bleeding~! Ushishi~!Aaaaaah~" He swooned and giggled, the sheer adrenaline of the sight of his royal blood pulsing through his body.

"You don't know what you've just done, lady." He said with a malicious giggle as he followed her calmly. She made a pained noise as she finally collapsed against a wall.

She looked up to see Belphegor towering over her, his half-hidden face bloodied and grinning.

_Oh, this'll definitely make it onto the news in Naples tomorrow._ Bel thought as he brought the first of many knives down.

He could already hear the pretentious newscasters labeling his crimes.

Salerno has a serial killer. The Salerno Slasher, or something silly like that. He thought as he slit her again and again, his stabbing getting more and more frantic and violent with his joy.

He was the apex predator in this city.

He loved the kill.

And he knew that he'd have a fit of mania when he relived this sweet murder tomorrow morning when he saw this beautiful, bloodied bombshell under a white blanket on the news.

Salerno didn't have a serial killer.

It had _Prince the Ripper._

_They have the best of the best. But I'm sure _they_ won't see it that way._

He laughed uncontrollably at the sheer hilarity of that thought as he flitted away a good hour later, doused in red.

It was his best color, after all.

* * *

><p>That was officially my first attempt at writing anything remotely violent or bloody. I'm not a big gore fan, to be honest. Regardless, I hope it was good and in character!<p>

Next chapter'll be up soon, and I'm working on everything else I needed to write too. Just be patient with me!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This always happens. No matter what I do, I eventually end up writing more and more per chapter. These were supposed to be shorts, dammit! Oh well. I like them all the same.

Warnings: Themes, language, innuendo, slight OOC-ness, and general Varia shenanigans. I really love the word shenanigans, for some reason. *shrug*

Dislcaimer: See chapter 1, because I'm lazy.

* * *

><p>15: Lavender<p>

_(In which Xanxus makes a request and Levi jumps to conclusions)_

* * *

><p>If there had ever been any reason for Levi. A. Than to dislike the grinning blonde prince sitting across from him, and there were many, <em>many<em> reasons, none of them even came close to this…this…**scandalous** atrocity.

And what was worse…his beloved _Boss_ had been the one to propagate the indecent affair, with one mysterious request upon his entrance into the dining room forty-five minutes ago.

"Bel." He said quietly as he took his seat at the head of the table. The blonde looked up from his soup curiously.

"Yeah boss?"

And then Levi remembered the look of almost…desire, in Xanxus's eyes as he looked at the blonde.

"I need _it_ tonight. You'd better not have any plans later." He said with a small smirk. Belphegor stared at him blankly for a second before a small, hedonistic grin crept onto his face.

"Ushi~! No problem, boss."

Levi felt his blood pressure steadily rising. What was _it_?

Knowing Belphegor, it had to be something extremely lewd. His suspicions were confirmed when Bel spoke again. "Lavender or Jasmine? The lavender is nice. It warms while you rub it on." Bel said huskily. Xanxus made a noise of appreciation.

"That sounds good. Lavender it is."

Levi nearly crushed his wine glass in his hand as he listened to the two speak quietly.

"Excuse me, Levi-san? Could you stop sweating so profusely? My salad doesn't need any extra dressing, if you don't mind." Fran quipped from the seat next to him as he pulled his bowl away from the taller man, who was indeed sweating literal bullets in his anxiety.

With each passing second, he glared harder and harder at the prince. The question was burning in the back of his mind.

What was _it_?

And why was Bel of all people doing it?

The thunder guardian was nearly boiling with jealousy.

No one was going to do anything to or with Xanxus without going through _him_ first.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing to the boss, you filthy prince?" He snarled at Belphegor later in the hallway. He noticed, with no small amount of disgust, the blonde's disgraceful state of undress (he was wearing his pajamas, which consisted of a pair of plaid sleeping pants and a black tank-top that kept sliding down one shoulder), not to mention his hair was pinned up and he was holding a bottle of lotion.<p>

Levi felt his revulsion towards the smiling prince growing with each second. Belphegor just looked at him curiously. "Huh?"

Levi growled at the smaller man as he pointed an accusatory finger directly into his face, causing Bel to step back to avoid getting one of his eyes poked out.

"Y-you! How dare you just waltz up to the boss's personal quarters in such shameless attire?" The dark-haired man bellowed.

Belphegor just stared at him oddly.

"But…I always come like this… Boss doesn't care." He said quietly, with a small pout. Levi nearly had an aneurysm.

"A-always?" He squeaked. "You mean you do this all the time?"

Belphegor rolled his eyes as he stepped past Levi and kept walking towards Xanxus's bedroom. "Yeah stupid ass, once a week."

"How dare you taint him with your perversion!"Levi screamed so loud it echoed down the hall.

Belphegor stopped dead in his tracks as he realized exactly what Levi was thinking. The blonde's lips contorted into all sorts of odd shapes to keep from bursting out laughing.

Levi really thought…him and Xanxus…

And they all thought _he_ was the one with the dirty mind. But Bel was one who was constantly looking for something entertaining, and if he played his cards right, he'd be laughing about this for _days._

Belphegor slapped on a kinky smile and turned to the taller man.

"How dare I?" He began, "Boss is the one who always comes to me, you know, because he _loves_ the way I work him."

Levi shook his head in disbelief.

"You're lying! Xanxus-sama would never do…_that_ with someone like you!" He shouted angrily. Belphegor gave him a lopsided smile.

"Then you obviously don't know boss. Why would he pay some commoner to do it when he has a perfect prince such as myself who can do it so much better for free? "

"OH NO!"

"OH YES," Bel shouted back with mock seriousness as he walked back to Levi. "You should hear the _way_ he says my name when I do it. He just melts into a puddle of goop every single time," Bel paused to lick his lips for effect, "The prince _always_ leaves him begging for more. Have you ever heard the boss say _please_? I have. Ushishi~! It's music to the prince's ears."

On the inside, Belphegor was nearly dying with laughter. That over-zealousness of Levi's would be the death of him one day.

"He likes when I'm rough too. Especially when it's a little painful." He said slyly as an afterthought.

Levi looked absolutely scandalized.

How could he have let this happen? Hadn't he sworn to protect Xanxus with his very life? And to think, the real threat was coming from within their own ranks! The thought nearly made him sick.

Belphegor laughed quietly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd best be going. Boss'll be mad if I'm late." And with that, the blonde sauntered off towards Xanxus's bedroom, making sure to sing a song with extremely dirty lyrics just to freak Levi out even more.

He left an anxious and disgusted Levi back in the hallway.

After nearly ten minutes, the older man sighed to himself. Well, Xanxus was a grown man, and he was making the conscious decision to do …_that_ with… _Bel, _of all people. But if that's what made him happy, Levi thought as he walked towards the room, then who was he to get in the way?

Levi walked past the room, heading to his own room which was in the wing across from Xanxus's. He strained his ears slightly as he walked by.

Silence.

_It's none of my business._ He thought. _This is boss's private time. I'll keep my nose out of it._

But nonetheless, Levi stared at the door, unable to keep walking. His eyebrows furrowed. He had a duty to Xanxus, no matter what.

"I'll just listen in for a few minutes, just to make sure Bel doesn't try anything funny with the Boss." Levi said with a decisive nod. He pressed his ear to the door, making sure to mask his presence. He listened for a few minutes, hearing nothing but silence. He crouched down and pressed his ear harder against the door.

"…mmmmm…." He heard a low moan suddenly come from inside the room. _B-boss? _He thought as felt his face heat up.

_I need to go!_ He shouted in his head. But he just couldn't pull himself away from the door.

"How's that feel, boss?" He heard Bel ask huskily. Xanxus replied with something unintelligible, moaning and hissing softly.

_It's none of my business._ Levi said mentally, forcing himself to get away from the door, his face beet red.

He heard rustling. It sounded like a shirt coming off.

_I can't believe this! What nerve that brat has to be so indecent with the boss! _Levi screamed in his mind. He couldn't keep his uncontrollable imagination from producing image after image of the… less than pure activities, he knew were taking place behind that door.

"We'll start nice and slow, alright? It's gonna hurt no matter what though." He heard Bel whisper softly, followed by the sound of a bottle being uncapped. Shortly thereafter, the scent of lavender floated from under the door. It made Levi a bit dizzy.

And to top it off…Bel was …on top?

Levi felt himself tear up from shock._ Oh, Xanxus-sama. How could you let that bastard do that to you?_

"Ah! Fuck Bel!" He heard Xanxus suddenly grunt out painfully, the prince's slithery chuckle following immediately after. "Sorry boss, it's kinda tight."

Levi's eyes widened. _What the hell did that blonde whore do? I can't just sit here and let Bel taint boss like this, I have to help him!_

And with that, the thunder guardian barreled into the room, one of his parasols aimed at Belphegor.

"Get away from him you filthy whore! Boss! I'll save…you…?"

Xanxus glared at him heatedly from his spot on the bed, but made no effort to stand. "Any particular reason you felt the need to walk in on my weekly massage, trash?" He growled as he laid his head back down in his folded arms.

"B-but, I um, I t-thought…"Levi stuttered as glared at the blonde prince in embarrassment at being tricked so cruelly. "Bel! You goddamn liar!"

Bel, who sat perched on Xanxus's lower back, effectively straddling him as he kneeded the heel of his palm along the dark-haired man's shoulder, gave him a decidedly wicked little smile.

"I wasn't lying, boss does love the way I work him. The prince gives the best massages ever!" He said with a chuckle as he flexed his fingers. "The prince is great with his hands." He said haughtily.

Xanxus elbowed him in the leg. "I didn't say stop, scum. Keep going." He snapped. Bel just smiled and kept kneeding out the horribly tight knot in Xanxus's shoulder he'd been trying to loosen for the past ten minutes.

Levi completely deflated.

"A…massage?"He said to no one in particular.

"Yeah dumbass, what'd you think? Now get lost!" Xanxus barked at him, and Levi wasted no time in scurrying away with his tail between his legs.

_I've fallen out of boss's favor yet again._ He thought with a frown. And it was because of the sadistic prince's trickery. He could just imagine Belphegor's huge grin at breakfast tomorrow, on their mission tomorrow, and pretty much anytime he saw Levi from then on.

Levi groaned in defeat. One day, he would get Bel back for this injustice.

* * *

><p>16: Projection<p>

_(In which Fran learns an important lesson from his predecessor)_

* * *

><p>Curiosity could be a terribly annoying thing at the best of times. But at this very moment, Fran thought, it was a downright pestilence. He was thoroughly exhausted, just like everyone was after the battle with Byakuran; his body ached all over and he hadn't even really done anything significant during the fight.<p>

The tiny scabs from Belphegor's knives all over his back did sting a bit though.

Fran sighed as he rolled onto his side. One day, Karma would smack the blonde prince right upside that big head of his, and Fran would be right there to rub his dumb, grinning face in it. But for now, there was something that weighed far more heavily on the young illusionist's thoughts, namely the newly reincarnated Mist Arcobaleno sitting with Xanxus in his office, discussing something private.

_Probably his current standing within the Varia, considering I'm his replacement,_ Fran thought.

Now that Mammon was back, they didn't need two illusionists in the Varia. It was almost not a question in Fran's mind that they would accept Mammon back into the organization. The Arcobaleno had proven himself more than once to Xanxus and the others, not to mention he'd been there from the beginning, so he was already an integral part of the Varia.

_So where does that leave me?_ Fran thought.

Admittedly, he was feeling a bit worried. There were so many questions flying through his head that he physically could not close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

He knew that the others were just waiting for the word from Xanxus, and Fran would probably be swimming with the fishes. He didn't really get why they felt they had to kill him, to be honest. He could just as easily go back to Mukuro and the Kokuyo gang. They were always a swell bunch, he supposed.

He rolled onto his stomach. _But…I guess it's not so bad here either. I mean, I have my own room, with a nice bathroom and everything, the uniform's pretty snazzy, and Lussu-nee-san is such a good cook. But… I was just getting too cozy. _

Fran groaned and finally crawled out of bed, unable to get any rest.

_A glass of warm milk or something might do me good,_ He thought with a yawn as he padded into the kitchen, his bare feet soundless on the tiles.

To his surprise, the light in the kitchen was already on. He felt his stomach turn. He really didn't want to see any of the others at that moment. Especially Bel, who would waste no time in telling him he was dead meat as soon as boss gave the word.

"Perhaps I should just run away before that happens…" Fran said to himself quietly as he poked his head into the kitchen. But that thought scared him even more, specifically because of something Belphegor had said to him his first night at the headquarters.

_Being in the Varia is sorta like being in a gang. Once you're in, you're in for life. And the __**only**__ way you leave is in a coffin._

Fran had threatened to run away, naturally. To which the prince just chuckled and happily demonstrated on a passing grunt what it was the Varia reserved the contractual right to do to anyone who ditched or betrayed them.

Fran had had a hard time keeping his lunch down after _that_.

And what made it even worse was knowing that that was what Bel would do to him when Xanxus gave the okay. Fran suddenly felt a cold sweat break out down his back. Either way, he was done for, so he might as well die with some sort of dignity to his name. The mist guardian straightened his back and walked into the kitchen.

He wouldn't show any of them how terrified he was.

But surprisingly, instead of Bel, or Squalo, or even Lussuria, he found the very person, or infant, rather, that he had been mentally debating about all the way down the stairs.

Fran found himself almost starstruck at the sight of his predecessor.

After years of being compared to him, by not only Belphegor but the others as well, Fran's mind had created this larger-than-life image of the Mist Arcobaleno. He'd heard of Mammon's abilities every single day from the prince, who, although his words weren't directly kind, it was clear that he held Mammon in much higher regard than he did some of the others.

He also remembered Mukuro's recant of the Ring Conflict, and despite the severe thrashing he had given Mammon then, he admitted that the arcobaleno was undoubtedly of a superior breed of illusionists and spellcasters.

_He only lost because __**I **__was his opponent,_ Mukuro said to him then. But he had also told Fran that if ever given the chance to face Mammon in his pre-Arcobaleno days, namely, as Viper, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Fran was almost afraid to walk into the kitchen then. The younger illusionist settled for standing silently in the doorway and staring at his predecessor.

Mammon was sitting at the table, a glass of something pink and creamy-looking in a small glass next to him, and he was looking over some sort of document. Despite the small, triangular pout on his chubby face, he looked relatively peaceful, like he was happy to be back home.

"Sit." The baby said suddenly, and Fran nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd been caught.

"Um.." He began awkwardly, not moving from the doorway.

After a few seconds, Mammon looked up from the document. "I said sit, child. Or I'll charge you a fee."

Despite the soft, almost lilting tone of the infant's voice, the clear command made Fran's feet move. Fran cautiously walked into the kitchen and took a seat adjacent to the hooded infant. They sat in silence for several minutes as Mammon finished looking over the paper, which appeared to be some sort of financial document, now that Fran had a closer view.

He sat quietly, alternately twiddling his finger on the table and staring at the infant. No one had ever told him what Mammon looked like, and he'd certainly never seen a picture or anything, so he found it difficult not to stare at the baby. He took in his predecessor's dark hood, hiding his eyes away from sight, as well as the permanent scowl affixed to his cherubic face.

Fran couldn't explain why, but being around the Arcobaleno made him slightly uneasy. Perhaps it was the infant's refusal to speak until he finished reviewing the document that was making Fran so uncomfortable. Although he hid it well, Fran was a bit impatient at times, and coupled with his current anxiety, he was fidgeting like a little boy in his seat every few seconds.

But there was something else about Mammon that put him on edge too. The infant had such a nefarious aura about him, like he was surrounded by sadness, and tragedy, and evil. Fran knew many illusionists, himself included, often had some sort of ties to the supernatural and the occult, but he'd never met anyone with such a wholely malevolent presence.

It almost felt like there was some sort of evil spirit around him, and it made Fran a bit queasy. He understood then why it was that Mammon was more respected within the Varia than he was. He had a frighteningly unpleasant feeling about him, almost demonic. He fit in perfectly with the others.

_If this is him as a baby, I wonder what he was like as an adult,_ Fran pondered.

Fran also noticed the distinct markings on Mammon's cheeks; they were small violet triangles, similar to the markings under his eyes. Without thinking, he leaned over and pinched the baby's cheek.

"Ubuu!" Mammon squeaked at the sudden pain in his cheek, and Fran resisted the urge to smile. The creepy feeling dissipated almost immediately.

"What a cute little baby." Fran said flatly. "Hard to believe you're the Mammon I've heard so much about."

Mammon slammed the paper down on the table and gave him a stern look. At least, Fran imagined it would've been a stern look, had he actually been able to see his face.

"Hmmph. And you must be this Fran character everyone's told me about." The Arcobaleno quipped as he rubbed his now sore cheek. Fran sighed at that. "I can only imagine what the fake-prince has told you about me." He said as he poked Mammon's cheek again and again, until finally Mammon made an irritated sound and batted his finger away.

"Plenty, I assure you." Mammon said with an even deeper frown as he rose out of his seat and floated over to Fran, levitating several inches from his face. Fran's eyes widened slightly.

_Whoa. Mammon can fly?_

Mammon hovered in front of him quietly, getting closer and closer as the seconds ticked by. The baby made little 'hmm' noises every so often, studying his replacement curiously. Fran just stared back blankly.

After what seemed like an eternity, Mammon sighed and sank down onto the table. He walked over and picked up his glass of…_whatever_ he was drinking, and took a few sips.

"You're every bit as dumb-looking as they said." Mammon said after setting his cup back down. "And I wonder what Bel would do if he saw you without the hat he lovingly made for you?" He chided, his deadpanned tone holding a mocking edge.

Fran patted his head. "Oh…I hope no one walks in." He muttered quietly. Mammon scoffed.

"How pathetic. They had all that time after I was gone, and _you_ were the best they could find? I wonder what filthy alley they drudged you up out of?" The infant said arrogantly.

Fran was taken aback by his predecessor's cutting words, although outwardly he didn't show it.

"I guess I was, and not to be rude, Mammon-san, but I was never interested in joining the Varia anyway. What Bel-sempai and the others say about me doesn't really matter, because I don't like any of them anyway. Sorry if I don't live up to their wonderful 'Varia Quality.'" He said, his voice taking on a more brusque edge than normal.

To his surprise, Mammon chuckled condescendingly before sipping his drink again.

"It's no wonder they treat you like dirt." He said quietly.

"What?"

Mammon looked up at him from his new perch on the table. "You act like nothing affects you, but inside…it bothers you, doesn't it? The things Bel and the others say and do to you?" He said quietly.

Fran frowned.

"You don't know what you're talking about, baby." Despite his cool tone, Fran felt himself getting slightly agitated. Mammon was staring directly at him as he spoke, almost as if he could feel exactly what Fran had locked away deep within himself.

In a matter of minutes, Mammon had succeeded in doing what very few could, namely, getting under his skin. And Fran felt like the infant sitting on the table could see that perfectly.

"Of course I do, Fran. Even without reading your mind, it's easy to see that being considered a replacement bothers you. A lot more than you're comfortable admitting."

The two sat in silence for several seconds, staring at each other. After a moment, Fran sighed. "Well of course it bothers me. I'm not a robot, you know. Especially when I wanted no part of this to begin with." He finally admitted softly.

To his surprise, Mammon chuckled. "And it should. You've got some big shoes to fill, after all. It'd be hard for anyone to top an Arcobaleno, let alone a fledgling like you."

At that, Fran bristled.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" He snapped without thinking, "I said I wanted no part of this stupid assassin crap anyway!" He could feel everything he wanted to say just bubble to the surface, and the words just kept pouring out, unhindered.

"I was alright with Mukuro and the others. I mean, they weren't all that great either, and Mukuro was kind of a slave driver, but I didn't ask to be brought here against my will, to fight for a bunch of assholes that treat me like I'm worthless just because I'm not a stupid baby with a frog on his head!" He shouted.

Fran felt himself trembling with anger. He didn't even know he could get that angry, truthfully. He couldn't explain why what Mammon, someone who had never met him before now, had said suddenly irked him so much, but…

…it **really** pissed him off.

Mammon just sat looking at him, calmly sipping his drink. After a long sip, he continued nonchalantly.

"Yes, I suppose you're entitled to be a bit upset, considering the unorthodox way you were brought into the family." The infant said with a half-hearted shrug before pinning him with a hard look.

"But what irritates me about _you_ is that you know in your mind how you feel about the situation, but you're too afraid to say it out loud. So to hide your fear and your **obvious **weakness, you protect yourself with sarcasm and scathing verbal abuse instead of defending yourself like you're really capable of, and everyone can see that but you. And that's why Bel and the others treat you like you're nothing. Because you're _showing_ them that you're nothing."

Fran, for the first time in his life, was at a loss for words.

"What?" He said in confusion, his anger fading away quickly.

Mammon sighed as he finished off the last of his pink beverage. "You really don't give yourself enough credit, Fran. I expected more out of the apprentice of a cocky bastard like Rokudo Mukuro."

"But Master is cocky because he knows he can back it up." Fran said. Mammon fixed him with a deep pout. "And so can you, although you don't know it."

Fran just looked at him curiously. Mammon floated back to him and hovered at eye level so they were face to face. "Do you know why the members of the Varia are who they are today?"

Fran shook his head.

"Do you know why, even though he beat him, Sawada Tsunayoshi is still terrified of Xanxus and the Varia to this very day?"

Again, Fran shook his head.

"And do you know why the Arcobaleno are revered as they are, or why people like Xanxus and Superbia Squalo, or your master, or Hibari Kyoya are as feared and respected as they are?"

"…No…?"

"Because of their arrogance, and their discipline."

"Arrogance? And discipline?" Fran parroted back.

Mammon nodded. "Precisely. They are not just feared because of their obvious ability, but it's also because of their confidence in their power, and their discipline in honing their abilities. I suppose the best way to sum up what I'm trying to tell you would be with a story. When I was a child, I had a lot of trouble controlling my power. I killed my caretaker after he raped me one night, and for days, I wandered the streets, my mind tearing itself apart from fear and desperation. Just when I thought I was at my end, a witch found me and took me in."

Fran's eyes widened slightly at that. He leaned forward, interest piqued.

"I spent most of my adolescence with the witch, who was gifted in the same ways I was. I trained day and night to perfect my abilities, until soon, I was strong enough to overwhelm and ultimately devour her soul."

"Holy shit." Fran said, eyes wide. Mammon actually gave a small chuckle at the younger man's shock, but continued on.

"Yes, well, after that, I decided to become an assassin. I knew that the underworld would welcome me with open arms. I started with small jobs, like any rookie assassin, but the difference between me and anyone else was that no matter how small an assignment seemed, I executed it with perfection. Each job was a chance to show off my power, and learn something new about myself. I made sure every single person I worked with was left in awe of me. And that didn't change once I became part of the mafia. I met other spellcasters and illusionists of both my family as well as other families, and it didn't take me long to realize I was in a league all of my own. Through my relentless training, I had pushed my power to far exceed that of the average illusionist."

Fran nodded as he listened, completely ensnared by the infant's story.

"With that kind of knowledge, comes great confidence, Fran, and when you hold yourself in higher regard than you do others, you push yourself much harder. In my case, I ended up killing most of the other illusionists of my time, simply because I knew they didn't have the power to stop me. And that is the mindset that sets the Varia, and the Arcobaleno, and even certain members of the Decimo's family apart from everyone else. It is the reason Belphegor insists on reminding everyone he's a prince, and why Xanxus can sit on his throne and throw wine glasses at one of the most feared swordsmen of our lifetime, and even why your master made me lose my grip on my perception during the Ring Conflict all of those years ago. We are the unstoppable force, and there is not a soul on this Earth that can shake us." Mammon said with a soft smile.

Fran sat quietly for several minutes, letting the arcobaleno's words sink in. Mammon coughed softly into his fist. "Get me a drink. I haven't talked that much in years."

Surprisingly, Fran just nodded and got up to retrieve the Mist guardian a new glass. He found a carton of the pink beverage Mammon had been drinking in the refrigerator and poured a glassful.

"And just so you can sleep easy," Mammon began suddenly, "you're not getting booted out just because I'm back, so relax."

Fran turned around quickly, shocked that the infant had known exactly what was really bothering him.

"How did you know?"

Mammon scoffed. The glass in Fran's hand suddenly floated away from him, towards the baby perched on the table.

"I truly wonder what it is Bel has told you about me," Mammon said as he grabbed the cup out of the air and took a sip. "Although my power is no longer at its peak, I am still a world-renowned psychic. And yes, that obviously includes telekinesis and telepathy."

"Why aren't they kicking me out?" Fran asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Mammon sighed audibly, as if the conversation was becoming taxing for him.

"You have me to thank for that, child, and you can thank me by depositing one thousand U.S. dollars into my account before the end of tomorrow."

"You?" Fran repeated as he sat back down at the table. Mammon nodded.

"Yes, me. To be honest, I didn't think much of you, until Xanxus told me you had a Hell Ring. After that, I read through your file, and I realized that you have a lot of potential."

Fran laughed bitterly. "That's what everyone seems to say about me. That I have potential." He suddenly felt Mammon's heated glare pin him down from underneath the dark hood.

"Well if it wasn't for that potential, you'd be dead several times over." The infant snapped, and Fran immediately shut his mouth.

"A Hell Ring isn't something you just stumble upon, boy," Mammon began, "they find their way to the person they truly belong to."

Mammon beckoned him over. "Let's have a look at it." Fran walked over and held his hand out. The avaricious mist guardian inspected it for a long while before finally speaking.

"The 666 Hell Ring, hmm? That seems about right for you." He said, a hint of amusement in his flat voice.

"The bearer of the 666 Hell Ring is fated to suffer six hundred and sixty-six misfortunes before his luck turns, and the chance for one stroke of good fortune is his." Fran recited quietly from memory. Mammon nodded in agreement.

"You've had a hard life, child. You've certainly endured your fair share of misfortune already. But we," Mammon said as he pointed upstairs, "all have as well. The question now is how you overcome it."

Fran stared at him in silence.

"You have a Hell Ring because you will be someone great, Fran, although you may not see that right away. And you're part of the Varia because you are at the top of your game; again, even though you yourself may not think that. Mukuro taught you everything you needed to survive up until now, but you still have a lot to learn. And that is why I plan to take you under my wing and put you on that path."

"R-really?" Fran stuttered embarrassingly, at a complete loss for words for the second time that evening.

"Yes. I requested permission from Xanxus, and he was fine with it."

Fran felt a weight lift from his shoulders. "Thank you, Mammon-san."

The infant scoffed. "Don't thank me just yet. As you will soon discover, I am a far stricter teacher than Mukuro is, and my capacity for cruelty is much higher. You've rested on your potential for far too long. The name Varia is synonymous with fear and power, and that will always hold true in the Vongola, and in the Mafia world in general. I don't know what that oaf has been doing with you all of this time, but it's time you rose to the Varia name. Right now, you're at the bottom of the food chain here. But that will change very quickly under my tutelage."

Fran stared at the baby blankly. "Mammon-san is very passionate about this." He said with a deadpanned voice.

Mammon scowled deeply at him. "You baffoon, of course I am. Mukuro may not care, but no pupil of mine will be looked down upon as weak. As such, your first lesson begins as soon as you get upstairs."

Fran suddenly felt anxious. "Uh…what do I need to do?"

Mammon fixed him with a hard look. "Throw that atrocious hat Bel makes you wear in the garbage."

"But Bel-sempai will kill me if I do that." The infant shook his head, the stern pout still pasted on his face. "No he won't. And if you were truly paying attention to what I was saying earlier, you'll realize why."

Fran sat down and immediately began thinking over everything the arcobaleno said to him.

Mammon yawned. "I'm going to sleep. I'd better see that disgraceful piece of head-gear sitting on top of the trashcan tomorrow morning, or I'll mail you back to Kokuyo Land in pieces."

And with that, his predecessor vanished upstairs.

Fran sighed_. What a troublesome situation I've landed myself in. But I'd better do what he says. Mammon-san doesn't seem like the type to make empty threats._ Fran thought as he grabbed the half-full glass that Mammon was drinking out of.

He sniffed it curiously before taking an experimental sip. It was strawberry milk.

* * *

><p>I've always wondered what Fran and Mammon's relationship would be like if they met in the future arc. I can see it going a bit like this. I think it'd be pretty easy for Mammon to get inside Fran's head, being an illusionist and psychic as well, not to mention how alike they are in personality.<p>

Anyway, if you enjoyed it, leave me some kind words of encouragement!

Until next time!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N:Hey all, here's the next chapter!

I only wrote two moderately long ones this time, because apparently I can no longer keep these under 1,000 words. But I'm trying to shorten them back up.

…Pfff…fat chance of that happening.

Oh oh oh! And I want to give a special shout-out to lilmissmarikit for her wonderful fanart for 'Save Face'. Unfortunately, I can't post the link here directly because FFN is lame, but she graciously posted a link for me, which you can find if you look at her review! Thanks a lot!

Warnings: Um…just language, really. Oh and mild violence in the second one.

Disclaimer: See chapter uno por favor.

* * *

><p>17: Comfort Zone<p>

_(In which old habits die hard, even for elite assassins)_

* * *

><p>Squalo sat in his room, casually flipping channels. It was just one of the many things that irritated Squalo to no end; that is, surfing through their five-hundred plus channels at nine o'clock on a Sunday night and finding literally nothing on but infomercials and documentaries. The swordsman rolled his eyes as he tossed the remote on the mattress and flipped his pillow over before lying back down.<p>

Sometimes he really wished he took extra assignments over the weekends, just because of times like this when he would nearly go out of his mind from boredom. Just as Squalo was seriously debating whether he should just turn in early for the night, his bedroom door opened slowly, and Belphegor poked his head in silently, a small frown on his pale face.

Squalo fixed him with a half-hearted glare. "Yes?" He snapped from his perch on the bed. At that, Bel pushed the door open a bit more and walked inside before closing the door gently behind him. Squalo noticed that the prince was a bit paler than normal, and he was bundled up in a cozy looking sweater with the hoodie drawn up over his head of blonde hair.

"…Hey Squ-chan…" The prince muttered softly before coughing into his fist. Squalo sat up as the younger man walked over to him. He sounded terrible.

"What? You sick or something?"

In response, Bel smiled softly before coughing a bit harder into the crook of his arm. Squalo clicked his tongue. "I'll take that as a yes. Did you take something already?"

Belphegor nodded tiredly. "Yeah," he started, normally low and slithery voice raspier than usual, "Luss made me take that nasty ass cough medicine, after he made me take a cold shower because I had a high fever."

Squalo nodded with a pensive noise. "Come'ere." He said and Bel climbed up on the large bed. Squalo put the back of his ungloved hand to the prince's pale forehead underneath his veil of hair.

"You're still a bit warm…" He said more to himself. Now that the younger assassin was closer, he also noticed that Bel's nose was a bit pink and irritated looking. Belphegor sniffed as he laid down on his side and rubbed his face into one of the many pillows lying against the headboard. Squalo just gave him a slightly put-off look before sighing and rolling his eyes.

It was just one of the prince's odd quirks. Ever since he was young, whenever Belphegor got sick or had trouble sleeping, for some reason, it was always Squalo who he went to. The swordsman didn't quite understand the logic behind it, considering he wasn't much of a caretaker, but Belphegor always seemed to find some sort of comfort in being around Squalo when he wasn't feeling right.

At first, it was something Squalo found extremely annoying, especially when the younger man decided it was okay to show up to his room at odd hours of the night and wriggle underneath the sheets with him. Over the years however, it became a quotidian occurrence between the two, and soon, Squalo didn't even bat an eyelash when he sometimes woke up to find Belphegor splayed out next to him (and sometimes on top of him) on the bed. It bothered him mostly because Bel was always so cold, and the prince would always find some way to cling or curl against him so that Squalo had to bear the full brunt of Bel's cold skin against his.

But thankfully, Bel was covered from head to toe this time, from his hood- covered head right down to the purple and black striped socks on his feet.

The prince made an appreciative noise as he snuggled up with another pillow. "Can I sleep here tonight, Squ-chan? My room is freezing." Bel whispered hoarsely.

Squalo let out a snort.

"I don't know why the hell you're asking, brat. You're gonna stay regardless, aren't you?"

He watched as Bel's shoulders shook slightly with his soft laughter. The prince looked at him over his shoulder. "Duh. Your room is nice and toasty." The prince said with his trademark grin.

"I'd better not get sick, or that's your ass." Squalo snapped. The prince made a noncommittal noise as he crawled under the thick sheet and settled on his stomach. After a few minutes, Belphegor's breathing evened out and his chest rose and fell softly, with the occasional spasm from a cough. He was gone.

Squalo rolled his eyes again as he settled back down. Before drifting off, the swordsman vaguely entertained the thought of Belphegor ten years from now sneaking into his room and sliding under the sheets with him.

The swordsman grimaced as he looked over at his sleeping comrade.

"You'd better let go of this weird habit of yours before you turn thirty dammit. I don't want a grown man crawling into bed with me." He whispered.

Not that Bel heard him, since the prince slept like the dead.

* * *

><p>18: Faux Pas<p>

_(In which Lussuria proves he is just as fierce as he is fabulous)_

* * *

><p>Of all of the wonderfully expensive and incredible places to shop in the entire country of Italy, after Milan of course, Lussuria's favorite shopping hot spot was the Naples Galleria. It didn't matter to the martial artist that it took a good hour and a half to get there (the extra half hour was spent trying to find someone to drive him, since Lussuria was considered legally blind and thus possessed no license to drive), or that he usually ended up maxing out a credit card (or two, or seven) before he finally decided he had enough stuff.<p>

All that really mattered to Lussuria as he sashayed through the moderately crowded galleria was getting his leather skinny-jean clad ass in the Louis Vuitton outlet for their annual end-of-the-year sale before all of the housewives got there and made off with all of the really nice things. With several large and expensive looking bags full of his spoils for the day hanging in one hand and his rhinestone splattered iPod in the other, Lussuria hummed along with the bouncy techno song blasting from his headphones as he inspected the map of the galleria.

He swore to every soul who asked that he knew the place like the back of his hand, but truthfully, the Galleria was just too large to completely commit to memory. And so, the martial artist sat staring at the large map, looking for the outlet, tapping a pensive finger to his pursed lips.

"Now, where is that store again? Why is it always the one place I'm looking for that I can't find~?" He whined with a frustrated pout as he ran a mildly flustered hand through his green fringe. After several minutes of searching, he finally spotted the small outlet on the map. With a giddy clap, he quickly memorized the short route to the designer boutique before scuttling off to lay claim to anything and everything in the store.

The martial artist climbed onto the escalator, making sure to keep his feet completely on the step, the slight paranoia of ruining the expensive knee-high suede boots on his feet setting in. After a short ascension to the second floor, Lussuria stepped off the escalator with a sigh of relief and walked hurriedly towards the outlet.

He soon spotted his destination around a corner and quickened his pace.

It was still fairly empty. Good.

With that comforting knowledge in mind, the martial artist slowed his pace, smiling with giddy anticipation at all the money he was going to spend in one of his favorite designer stores.

At that moment, the Varia sun guardian heard a chorus of malicious-sounding laughter just behind him, followed by a sharp tug on his favorite feather boa, which was casually slung around his neck. The force of the unexpected pull nearly toppled him to the floor, and would have, were it not for the fact that Lussuria was a high level martial artist and thus possessed a superior sense of balance.

His boa, however, was ripped viciously from around his neck. He frowned as he turned to see who had the nerve to snatch his beloved boa away from him. Behind him, a group of thugs, a bit older than him from what he gathered, stood laughing and plucking feathers by the handfuls off of the boa.

Lussuria, though he was bristling on the inside, kept an outwardly calm composure. He slapped on a nonchalant smile as he walked closer to the group of men having their wicked way with his boa.

"Boys, that boa was quite expensive and happens to be my favorite. I'd appreciate you not tearing all of the feathers out, if you please." He said politely, though his voice held a slightly dangerous edge to it. The tallest man, who Lussuria took to not only be the leader, but also the one who snatched his boa off, began laughing arrogantly.

"Who the fuck walks around with a goddamn feather boa on? Especially a dude? What a fuckin' faggot!" He shouted loudly; loudly enough for everyone in the immediate area to turn and watch the quickly escalating scene.

Lussuria clicked his tongue and shook his head. _So that's their problem. Ugh, how juvenile._ He thought ruefully as he pulled the earbuds out of his ears and wrapped them around his iPod.

"Well," he began begrudgingly, "I own several boas, because I like them. And frankly, I don't really see why that apparently bothers you so much you feel that you have to harass me about it." He said with a pout.

"Nice lip gloss, fag." One of the thugs said, earning a chorus of laughter. Lussuria's pout suddenly morphed into a teasing grin.

"Well of course, I never go out with my lip gloss. I must accentuate one of my finest features~!" He said cheerfully as he slung an arm around the thug's shoulders and pulled him closer to lean in his ear, "and believe me, I can do **amazing** things with these pretty lips of mine." He said with a flirtatious whisper before flicking his pierced tongue out and licking the thug's earlobe.

The reaction was perfect.

The entire group of them cursed and edged several feet away, looking like Lussuria had just collectively burned them. The thug who was on the receiving end of Lussuria's advances was roughly wiping off his ears and spewing expletives like it was nobody's business.

"Motherfucking fag! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Ohoho~! I could ask you the same question, considering I was just on my merry way before you charming gentlemen began pestering me." Lussuria said with dangerous smile before holding out his hand.

"The boa, please. Or you may find yourself on the receiving end of something far more unpleasant than my tongue next time."

Naturally, they reacted exactly how he expected them to. The group of thugs nearly collapsed over each other in laughter, some of them clutching at their stomachs and doubled over as they laughed.

"Yeah fuck you! Motherfuckin' fairy! I'ma take this boa and give it to my girlfriend, she'd love it!" One of them said.

"I'm sorry, but that boa is far too expensive to be draped across the shoulders of some back-alley whore." Lussuria said with a perfectly condescending smirk. The laughter ceased immediately.

"The fuck did you just call my girl?" The thug snapped, clutching the boa tightly in his grip.

Lussuria crossed his arms across his chest. "A whore. And if you damage my boa anymore you're buying me a new one." He snapped, getting a bit peeved at the severe mishandling of his favorite fashion accessory.

"I ain't buyin' you shit!"

"Hmm, that's probably true, considering that particular boa probably cost more than your entire pathetic wardrobe. Way out of your price range, honey! Ohoho~!"

The thugs collectively bristled at the insult dealt to their leader. "Oh that's it! Let's fuck this bitch up!" The leader shouted as he ran at Lussuria, fist in the air.

Lussuria calmly put his iPod in one of his shopping bags. _Oh dear, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this. Boss will be so upset when he finds out. _ Lussuria sighed as he tilted his head to the side to narrowly avoid the big, meaty fist that nearly shattered his jaw.

Before he even had time to register what was going on, Lussuria disappeared from the thug's sight, only to reappear not a second later behind him. The martial artist chuckled as he grabbed the man's wrist tightly.

"What a pain. You really should've just given me back the boa." Lussuria said with mock-concern before quickly jabbing several points on the thug's arm and lower back. The man screamed out in pain as he wrenched the now limp appendage out his grip. He tried to walk away but quickly found himself on the ground, unable to move.

"What the fuck did you do to me?"

Lussuria smiled softly as he picked up his bags. "Oh nothing really. I just blocked all of the pressure points in your arm, and I fractured your wrist and elbow. And as for your legs," Lussuria chuckled cruelly as he popped an earbud back into one of his ears, "you'll probably never walk again. I shattered your lower spine beyond repair. Nothing for a martial artist of _my_ caliber."

He said with a nonchalant shrug as he walked up to the now terrified group of men and held his hand out. "My boa, please."

One of the men held the feathered accessory out to him, his arm visibly trembling. Lussuria took his beloved boa back and fluffed some of the crushed feathers back up before slinging it around his neck.

"Thanks for the fun boys, but I have a sale to get to. I wouldn't recommend picking anymore fights with random strangers, _especially_ if they're in the mafia. Toodles~!" He said as he walked by the frozen group.

"Mafia?" Lussuria heard one of them whisper. He teasingly blew them a kiss, loving their horror-stricken stares as they caught sight of the Varia insignia on his jacket. Many of their eyes suddenly widened in realization at how lucky they were.

They picked a fight with a member of the Vongola famiglia and got away with their lives.

Lussuria cared more about the gorgeous new fedora and ankle boots he got for thirty percent off.

* * *

><p>God Lussuria is so fabulous! He really is one of the most under-appreciated characters in the show, I swear. You know, I'm really glad I decided to re-watch KHR. I've gained a whole new appreciation for all of the characters, especially my beloved Varia boys. Anyway, until next time!<p>

-S*B


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Here is chapter seven, my little darlings. Ugh…I feel like crap. I've been sick since Sunday, and I thought I was coming down with the flu, because I'm achy all over, but I feel much better today, although my head still hurts. Since I've been stuck at home, that equates to some fanfiction in my book.

With that, read on!

Warnings: Language, content, dark themes (implied), and general varia she-she-she-shenanigans!

…Why do I love that stupid word so much?

Disclaimer: See chapter one, because I give no fucks.

* * *

><p>19: Tickle Me Mammon<p>

_(In which Belphegor is the harbinger of physical discomfort to small, greedy illusionists_)

* * *

><p>If it had occurred to him then, Mammon would've outright smacked himself for letting Belphegor back him into a corner like this. He knew an illusion wouldn't work against the blonde; his senses were much too keen to be tricked by Mammon's spells.<p>

The baby gulped unconsciously.

He was trapped.

Belphegor's smile widened as he crept towards the infant, hands outstretched and fingers wiggling, mentally torturing Mammon with the knowledge of what was to come. The infant pushed himself snug against the wall, like he was trying to force the very matter of his body to merge into the wall and allow him to disappear into the mansion.

"Bel, don't you dare. I will ruin you financially if you lay a finger on me." He threatened weakly. Bel just snickered as he trotted closer and closer, shrugging the meaningless threat off like water on his shoulder.

"You can't scare the prince, Mammon. I will get what I want. And I'm going to get it right now." The blonde said mischievously, his taller form looming over the now visibly paling illusionist.

…Sometimes Mammon really hated his life. He didn't even get to say goodbye to his money, for Pete's sake.

"Gotcha!"

It was unbearable. It was torture in its purest and cruelest form. It was…

"Ubuu!"

"Coochie coochie coo! Come on Mammon! Giggle for the prince!"

"No!"

But somehow, Belphegor and those accursedly demonic hands of his…

*snort*

Mammon wiggled uncontrollably as he tried to get himself as far away as he could from the invading digits…but it was no use.

*snort* "Uuuhuabubububububu!" Belphegor's Cheshire cat grin nearly tore his face in two. He cooed happily as he bopped Mammon on the nose.

"Ushishi~! There's Mammon's adorable little baby giggle! The prince wins!"

"…If you tell **anyone** about this, I will sue you for harassment. And I'll win, too."

Bel just smiled as he commenced another tickling assault.

* * *

><p>20: Mother<p>

_(In which Lussuria is caught between pleasant surprises and unwanted memories)_

* * *

><p>When Squalo said they would be making a quick stop at his childhood home, Lussuria wasn't sure what to think. He knew Squalo was one of the only members of the Varia with surviving relatives; his own parents were deceased, Xanxus had no clue as to the whereabouts of his (and if he did he didn't tell anyone) and Belphegor happily <em>murdered<em> his. Fran never spoke about his family, even though Lussuria thought the illusionist's grandmother was just cute as a button, and Levi's father was living somewhere in Rome, last he'd heard.

Lussuria would never say so, but he found the thought of meeting Squalo's parents a bit nerve-wrecking. When one pictured a man like Superbia Squalo, it was difficult to conjure up an image of a couple who had the strength, patience, and sheer nerve to raise him into adulthood.

_They must be otherworldly_, Lussuria thought to himself. Squalo, with that unshakable swordsman's spirit, strict values and honor, discipline, and most importantly that voice that could wake the dead in Shanghai…

…he _clearly_ was birthed by the Gods.

"So Squ, any reason we're going to your childhood home?" He asked as pleasantly as he could. Squalo gave him a withering glare. He muttered something unintelligible, and Lussuria had to strain his ears to hear him properly.

"What was that?"

Squalo growled. "I **said**, I promised my ma I would stop by." He snapped, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

To his surprise however, there was no exaggerated, theatrical exclamations of his extreme cuteness, or any overdramatic gyration and flowery speech. Lussuria just smile softly, if not a bit sadly, and nodded.

"That's very sweet of you, Squalo. I'm sure she appreciates seeing her only son once in a while."

* * *

><p>The personal home of Superbia Squalo was nothing like what Lussuria had expected. He had many ideas of what the place their second-in-command grew up in might've looked like, but a quaint, vine-covered two story villa in the Italian countryside right outside of Siena was the last thing he had envisioned. It was certainly very different from the apartment Lussuria had shared with his own mother back in Venice.<p>

It felt much warmer.

The sleek sports car pulled up to the rounded brick driveway, and the two assassins stepped out silently. Just as their doors slammed, the front door of the house opened widely.

Lussuria held his breath unconsciously. Who was hiding behind that door?

To his surprise, a short, lightly tanned woman walked out, a huge smile gracing her face. Lussuria blinked rapidly behind his sunglasses. This was…Squalo's mom?

She looked nothing like he had pictured. She didn't really look like Squalo, for one, but it was obvious that she had been quite a knock out in her earlier years. She had long black hair, which was pulled tightly into a bun. Lussuria noticed the streaks of grey throughout the silken strands. She was tall for a woman her age, but to them, who both stood over six feet, she was quite tiny.

She stopped in front of Squalo, a twinkle in her blue eyes.

"About time you got here." She said with a chuckle. Squalo scoffed as he bent down to kiss her on the cheek quickly. "Yeah well, I'm fuckin' here, aren't I?" He snapped. Her smile quickly disappeared and, to Lussuria's shock and amusement, the little woman grabbed a handful of Squalo's long silver tresses and yanked his head down to eye level.

"Voooi! Maaa what the hell?" Squalo shouted in pain. Lussuria chuckled into his hand. If only the others could see the fearsome Sword Emperor being scolded by his mother. It was truly one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments.

"You sunuvabitch! Didn't I tell you to watch that goddamn mouth of yours?" She snapped back, and Lussuria immediately saw the resemblance.

He'd always wondered where Squalo got that mouth of his from.

Squalo smirked as she released his hair. "Well if I'm the son, wouldn't that make _you_ the bitch?" He said snarkily. His mother gave him a blank look, and, after several seconds, a shark-like smirk that mirrored Squalo's identically crept onto her slightly aged but still very beautiful face.

"Touché." She said with a chuckle. To Lussuria's surprise, Squalo actually laughed out loud. In all the years he'd known him, Lussuria wasn't sure he'd ever heard Squalo genuinely laugh at anything. But here he was, snickering good-naturedly at his mother, who rolled her eyes at her son before setting her eyes on Lussuria.

"Oh, hello." She began pleasantly.

Lussuria waved back awkwardly. She walked up and kissed his cheek, as was typical of Italian greetings. "I'm Letizia, mother to this one-" she said, jabbing a thumb in Squalo's direction, "and you are?"

"Lussuria. I'm an… _associate_ of Squalo's." He said with a smile, trying not to reveal too much about his and Squalo's lifestyle.

To his surprise, however, she gave him a knowing look. "You're Varia too?"

Lussuria stuttered embarrassingly as she laughed. "No need to be secretive, I know all about my son's life. Squalo wasn't one meant for a normal nine-to-five job, you know." She said with a prideful smile.

"You said you had something for me?" Squalo cut in before Lussuria had a chance to reply. Letizia nodded.

"I have that package you asked for, remember?" She said as she stepped into the house, ushering the two assassins to follow her inside.

"Come to the table, I'll make coffee."

Squalo walked in after her, the two talking quietly about the package his mother had for him. Lussuria stood outside for several minutes, a small, melancholy smile on his face.

"She's so different from what I expected…" He said to himself softly as he walked inside, "she's sweet."

_So different from _my_ mother…_ He thought, a despondent sense of nostalgia creeping into his mind and heart and even his bones as he ran a gloved finger over the frame of his sunglasses.

That sense grew as he walked further into the house. His gaze flickered over the numerous picture frames on the walls, feeling more and more downhearted with each one. It warmed him to see that the swordsman still had a fairly good bond with his family, truthfully, it did. He was the only one in the Varia who did, after all.

But it also brought back many unpleasant memories for him, too. His mother never hung pictures anywhere.

Lussuria eventually arrived in the dining room, where Squalo and his mother were seated, each with a coffee cup in front of them. They hadn't noticed him yet, as they were too engrossed in their conversation.

The farther Lussuria ventured into the house, the more constricting the atmosphere became. He just couldn't find it in him to move any further into the room.

Squalo turned to him then, nearly burning himself with his coffee in the process, "Voooi! You coming to sit down or what?" He snapped, before getting an open palm to the back of his head from his mother, who had stood up to fetch another cup.

"Stop being an ass!" His mother shouted before turning a sweet smile to Lussuria. "Would you like some coffee too, Lussuria?" She asked innocently.

Lussuria looked at Squalo. The swordsman, who had apparently just realized the root of Lussuria's discomfort, gave him a nearly imperceptible but by Squalo's standards reassuring nod of his head towards the seat across from him.

"Only sugar, right?" he asked brusquely. Lussuria smiled softly at the effort. Squalo wasn't always as much of a heartless bastard as he liked to make himself out to be. And Lussuria had a feeling he owed that to the cheerful woman setting a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.

To smile like that, knowing the dangerous, honorless and cutthroat profession her son was not only involved in, but at the top of.

Lussuria suddenly felt the sense of irritation creeping up again.

How could one woman, knowing that her son killed people for a living, still love him and accept him so unconditionally, when another would nearly kill her own because he…

"Because I just do, that's all. He's my son." She said softly, and Lussuria looked up in embarrassment, not realizing he had been thinking out loud. Squalo pointedly avoided his gaze, quietly sipping his own coffee. Lussuria smiled at the faint tint of pink across the bridge of the swordsman's nose.

As he apologized and excused himself from the table, he wondered if Squalo realized just how lucky he really was.

To know a mother's love.

* * *

><p>21: Old School<p>

_(In which Bel and Fran are in awe and Squalo is just annoyed)_

* * *

><p>It was nice to just relax once in a while. No one knew and appreciated that fact more than the members of the Varia, and when they could, they took full advantage of their down time. Bel and Fran sat under one of the large, low-hanging trees that littered the Varia estate, quietly tolerating each other's company.<p>

"Sempai, I'm trying take a nap here, could you quit stabbing me please?"

…or not.

"Ushishi! Hush up toad! The prince is just trying to unwind too. Nothing is more relaxing than stabbing frog-peasants."

Fran glanced up at the grinning blonde from his place lying on the ground with a melancholy look. "In that case, why don't you just off yourself? That way, you could relax for all eternity. I mean, I'm sure there are plenty of people to stab in Hell."

Before Belphegor had a chance to respond, the two spotted Squalo jogging up the path. Fran quickly rolled over and closed his eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing, Fran?" Bel asked with a curious look. The younger man shushed him with a violent flap of his skinny hand.

"Shhh sempai! Don't tell the long-haired commander I'm awake or he'll make me run with him." Fran whispered, the unbridled fear of any physically strenuous labor creeping into the illusionist's flat tone. Bel chuckled quietly as Squalo finally stopped in front of them.

"Voooii! What are you two bums doin' just lazing around?" He shouted, still joggin in place to keep his heart rate up. Bel shrugged nonchalantly as he laid down next to Fran.

"Well it is our day off, Squ-chan. We can loaf if we feel like it. Oh and by the way, Fran's awake. He said he'd rather sodomize himself with barbwire than be forced to go jogging with you because he hates your guts so he's pretending to be asleep until you go away."

Squalo gave them both an odd look before growling. "Vrroiii! I know the little terd's awake. What kind of idiot would fall for a trick like that?"

At that, Fran's eyes popped open and the illusionist sat up, sending a half-hearted glare at the snickering blonde next to him.

"I'll remember that next time you need a favor sempai."

"Not like it matters, dip-shit, I knew you were awake!" Squalo snarled, but before Fran could properly respond, his attention was drawn to the odd contraption hanging off of Squalo's sweats.

"What's that, long-haired commander? It doesn't look like any iPod I've ever seen," Fran said as he finally noticed the headphone cord trailing up to Squalo's neck, where a pair of headphones was hanging.

Squalo scoffed. "It's not an iPod. I can't stand those damned things. This is a CD player."

The two assassins suddenly came closer, eyeing the device with something akin to shock and disbelief.

"You still have one of those?" Bel asked incredulously, before snorting into his hand and slyly adding, "Where do you park your dinosaur?"

Squalo momentarily blanched. "Eh?"

Fran gave him an equally disbelieving, yet still somehow completely deadpanned, look.

"Seriously long-haired commander, didn't they invent CD players during like, the 1800s? You probably sunk the Titanic with that thing. I bet they mistook it for an iceberg because it's so large."

"V-voiii! Knock it off!"Squalo sputtered embarrassingly, only to be ignored as his two younger subordinates continued making fun of him.

"Do you still have one of those spinny phones too? You know, the ones where you dial by turning that wheel thing? Ushishi~!"

"Do you take your CD player with you when you go take a dump in the wooden shanty out in the yard? Or did they already invent indoor plumbing?"

The two shook their heads in shame. "And to think, one of the most technologically advanced mafia families in the world, and one of its members actually uses a CD player of all things? I mean, Jesus, next he's probably gonna show up at a family meeting in his afro and bell-bottoms."

"Or his fur pelt and spear."

"Vrrooooiiii…" Squalo snarled, and not a moment later, his trusty sword was being dodged by both Fran and Bel as they ran down the path towards the mansion.

As the two ran, quite literally, for their lives, Fran turned to Bel. "You know sempai," He began, panting slightly, "This wouldn't have happened if you had played along and pretended that I was asleep."

Belphegor gave him a dirty look and tripped him.

* * *

><p>Let it be known that Squalo discreetly purchased an iPod the next day.<p>

* * *

><p>Squalo really is a grandpa. Holy cow.<p>

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed these, and just so you know, the update for next week may or not run a bit late, since I'm working on a special one-shot this week. It WILL be up on Monday, because that is my absolute deadline. If any of you happen to know what is so special about this upcoming Monday, you might get why the fic I'm working on is special!

And don't ask, because I'm not telling. You'll see on Monday.

Anyway see ya next time, lovelies!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hey guys! Yes, yes, I know it's been a month since I updated this, but I've been busy! D: But I'm back with a new chapter! Isn't that great?

*Everyone boos at sushi*bomb for being a procrastinator*

…eh... alright then.

But seriously, I have been really busy. I just started my new job a few weeks ago, so I've been getting acclimated with my new settings, as well as the long hours. Also, I've been working on some of my other stories, which I have been neglecting for a while already. Particularly _DitD_, which I really wanted to update on Halloween night, since that was when I started writing it last year. Buuut…since sushi is probably the laziest bum on the planet, not to mention I'm stuck, I decided to come back to this story.

It always gets me in the mood to write again. :D

And, as always, thanks for the wonderful reviews, you guys are amazing and you make my kokoro go doki doki. *makes little heart with fingers*

Now read on!

Oh, oh, oh! By the way, the ideas for the prompts in this chapter came from tumblr. There's this thing where someone sends you a word or words, and you make a headcanon based on that word. My friends always sends me the best words, and it is so much fun it's ridiculous. I think you'll enjoy it.

Warnings: The usual. You should know what 'the usual' is by now, guys. Seriously lol

Disclaimer: I don't own this bullshit anime. You should know that too.

* * *

><p>22: Miscommunication<p>

_(In which Fran has procrastination problems and Squalo is homicidal)_

* * *

><p>Sometimes, Fran really couldn't stand the fact that his room was so far away. Not only did he have to share an entire hallway with Belphegor, which meant he had to see him even <em>more<em> often than he wanted to, but he also had to pass by Squalo's office to get to the stairs that lead to their side of the mansion.

Normally, the grouchy second-in-command didn't bother him, as his door was usually closed, but today it was wide open and Fran hoped like all hell that Squalo wouldn't notice him walk by, especially since his last mission report was still incomplete.

And of course by incomplete, he meant blank and forgotten.

As casually as he could, the replacement mist guardian walked by the open door, pointedly staring straight ahead and concentrating on happy things. Like puppies, and unicorns, and **not** being impaled on a spike outside of Squalo's bedroom window. You know, pleasant, _non-invasive_ things.

_Don't look up. Don't look up, don't look up, don't l-_

"Voi! " A sudden and unfortunately familiar shout rang from inside the office. Fran rolled his eyes in irritation, but kept walking anyway. Squalo didn't say his name, so he might've just been on the phone.

"Hey! I'm talking to you, motherfucker! Get your ass in here!" Another pissy shout came from the office.

"Fuck my asshole!" Fran cursed under his breath before sighing and backtracking towards the older man's office.

"Yeah, long-haired commander?" Fran asked as timidly and non- confrontationally as he could. Squalo gave a frustrated sigh as he looked up from the mountains of paperwork littered all over the expansive glass surface of his desk.

"Sit down." He snapped grouchily, motioning to one of the two seats in front of him. Fran shuffled in awkwardly and sat down. The two sat in silence for several minutes as Squalo punched something in on his laptop, looking every once in a while to what appeared to be someone else's mission report. By all of the squiggly lines, hearts ,bubbly writing, and especially the big red lipstick kiss at the very top, Fran figured it was probably Lussuria's. _Probably._

Fran coughed and brought his legs up to sit Indian-style in the cushion-y seat.

After a moment, Squalo finally slapped the stack of papers in his hand down and fixed his piercing glare on Fran, who just stared back like a crocodile lazing in the sun.

"I still need your mission report." Squalo said tiredly as he reclined back in his seat. Fran's lip quirked to the side in thought.

"Oh, um…what pantalones report?" He asked simply. Squalo's eye twitched.

"You know, your mission report? The one from two fucking days ago? Sound familiar?" Squalo snapped.

Fran stared at him blankly. "Two pantalones ago? I thought I gave it you." He said with a shrug. "Must've slipped my pantalones."

Squalo's eyes narrowed sharply. "Stop that."

Fran's head tilted to the side curiously. "Stop what?"

Squalo just shook his head, sighing in frustration. "Nothing. I need everyone's mission reports within forty-eight hours of the mission's completion. You know that."

Fran shrugged again. "But pantalones-commander, I swear upon Bel-sempai's unprincely pantalones that I turned in my mission report."

Squalo's face turned pink with annoyance. "Voi! I said fucking stop doing that shit!" he roared. Fran just held his hands up in a feeble gesture of self-defense.

"Whoa there, long-haired pantalones. I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm really not doing anything."

"Urgh…GODDAMMIT YES YOU ARE!"Squalo stood up shouting, nearly toppling his computer over in the process. Fran scratched his cheek idly as he looked around disinterestedly.

"Commander, I really think you need to calm your pantalones and take a nap. All of this stress can't be good for your heart. Or your _pantalones_, for that matter." He said knowingly.

"VOII! I ain't in the mood for your fucking shit, half-pint!" Squalo barked as he sat himself back down in a huff, "Just write me the damn mission report!"

Fran sighed, adjusting his leg before looking back up at the older assassin. "I don't know why you're getting so upset with me, commander. I'm just answering your pantalones. What is this shit of which you speak?" He asked in a breezy tone.

"You know damn well! You keep saying pantalones in place of random words! Stop it or I'll fucking gut you."

Fran gave Squalo an odd look. "But long-haired commander, what kind of strange pantalones would do that?"

Squalo's face was growing redder and redder by the second. Fran was certain he could see steam coming out of the older man's ears. "VOOOI!" He shouted in rage. Fran shrugged apathetically.

"I gave you the pantalones report, commander. I don't know what to tell you. I guess you misplaced it or something. Maybe you left it in your other pantalones." He said calmly, despite the tip of Squalo's very sharp sword now inches from his nose.

"Get. Out. Of. My. OFFICE!" Squalo seethed as he slashed towards the younger boy. Fran hastily shot up from the seat and ran out of the room, closing the door behind him. He barely moved when Squalo's sword came piercing through the door, nearly taking Fran's left arm with it.

"Oh my. I think I really pissed him off." Fran said thoughtfully as he wandered away from the now broken door and up the stairs to his room.

Not that he really cared, or anything. As long as he had more time to procrastinate on filling out his mission report.

* * *

><p>23: Pirouette<p>

_(In which everyone in the Varia is unique…and Bel is the Swan Queen)_

* * *

><p>The Varia were definitely at the top of the list when it came to being weird.<p>

Xanxus sometimes wondered where exactly the rule was written that said being a member of an elite, reclusive assassination squad also meant you had to be weird as fuck. He could start with Levi's freakish obsession with him, but that meant he'd have to acknowledge the fact that Levi was doing the laundry that day, which meant that in all likelihood the lightning guardian was _probably_ sniffing his boxers at that very moment.

Xanxus shivered.

There was Lussuria's habit of dressing in drag at least once a week, make-up and everything. Usually on the weekends. But to be honest, that wasn't nearly as weird as the man's necrophilic habits, so that didn't quite bother Xanxus too much after ten years.

There was Squalo's almost unnatural loudness, which Xanxus doubted he'd ever get used to, if he wasn't already deaf by the age of forty. Listening to the rain-guardian talk was much like having a personal foghorn following you everywhere you went, and going off indiscriminately. Squalo's voice had a certain pitch that could pierce a man's eardrum from a mile away, and was even deadlier point-blank, namely, from the doorway of Xanxus's office. That voice seared into the very depths of his mind, like an echo in an empty hallway. And oh, Squalo's voice could echo.

Xanxus couldn't recall moving to any canyons recently, so he just figured Squalo was part man, part megaphone.

Now Fran, Fran _seemed _relatively normal. At first.

The kid hadn't done much of anything his first week there at the castle, but once he warmed up to everyone (which was still pretty frigid, if Xanxus had anything to say about it), Xanxus realized Fran was just as fucked up as everyone else. He didn't think much of it until one day when Fran returned from the grocery store and casually strolled into the kitchen with about seven-hundred boxes of homemade chocolate pudding. You know, the tiny boxes in the store that Xanxus swore were like a dollar each.

But he figured that it was just an illusionist thing to be almost sexually attracted to something material. With Mammon, it was money. With Fran, pudding.

And then, there was Bel.

Bel was easily the creepiest member of the team, what with his almost compulsive homicidal tendencies, his blood fetish, his very obvious mental instability, and his…

…His extremely odd need to wander around with a fluffy pink ballerina skirt on. Specifically on Tuesdays. Xanxus wouldn't even have minded that as much if it wasn't for the fact that Bel seemed almost repulsed at the thought of wearing any sort of underwear underneath. And that skirt was a _little_ short.

Xanxus sometimes wondered about how much Bel's mental health was really deteriorating, because as if that wasn't bizarre enough on its own, Xanxus thought as he took in the current scene in front of him, Bel _also_ liked to stand in the kitchen every Tuesday morning, in his little ballerina skirt of course, and twirl around like the fucking Swan Queen until he was going fast enough for the skirt to fly up.

Perhaps Bel just hadn't gone through that phase people go through as toddlers where they just want to be naked all of the time, and this was his way of achieving some sort of Freudian psycho-sexual satisfaction. But to Xanxus, it made much more sense that Bel was just a perverted exhibitionist who enjoyed having his private bits on full display at all hours of the day.

Sometimes, Bel spun until he got so dizzy he'd collapse in a heap on the floor. Lussuria usually came over then, sighing with a mop in hand and would push the prince's unconscious body into the corner of the kitchen, where he would lay until he finally woke up.

And then, he would just come eat breakfast with everyone without a care in the world.

Xanxus seriously wondered where on Earth he found all of these strange people.

While Xanxus was having his inner venting moment in the doorway, Bel was in the center of the kitchen, casually spinning around on the balls of his socked feet, humming a little tune to himself. Even as Squalo came by and roughly shoved him out of the way to get the table, Bel kept his princely composure and kept on pirouetting.

"Watch it ass-cracker, the prince is spinning here!" He snapped before finally stumbling into his assigned 'corner of convalescence,' as Fran aptly named it once, spinning drunkenly a few more times before falling down. The prince laid on his stomach, giggling like a two-year old before passing out.

Unfortunately for the rest of them, Bel's skirt had flown up, and his pale backside was in full view of everyone at the dining table.

But then again, Xanxus thought as he rolled his eyes and he took his seat at the head of the table, Bel's ass was usually in everyone's face at least once a day anyway, so it wasn't really that of a big deal.

There was never a dull moment in the Varia mansion.

* * *

><p>24:Static<p>

_(In which Mammon reminisces about times before)_

* * *

><p>Mammon liked the Varia castle most when no one was around. Without Squalo's voice echoing down the halls, or Bel barging in and sitting on his money, or anyone around in general, Mammon felt peaceful.<p>

The mist guardian sighed in respite to himself as he floated down the dark halls. It was pouring rain outside, and the sky was black with thunderstorm clouds, with severe-looking flashes of blinding lightning illuminating the sky every so often.

It was days like this; cold, ominous rainy days, that made Mammon feel the most alive.

The most like _himself_.

Not like the tiny baby he was destined to be forever, but like Viper, the powerful man he really was inside. Who he _used_ to be.

Weather like this brought him back to the times before, with Reborn and Fon and the others up in that house. He remembered when he would sit in his room, sticks of incense lit all over, and meditate for hours with only the sound of rain pelting his window to disturb him. At least, until Skull would lumber in and announce at an unreasonable decibel that dinner was ready and run back out, usually after he knocked something over.

A tiny smile snaked its way onto Mammon's face.

Skull was probably so unlucky now because of all of the curses he had put on him back then.

Just as he reached the door to his room, something to his left caught his attention.

Mammon looked over, and smiled sadly.

They moved almost like static, he realized years ago as a child. Like if you turned on a TV and then quickly turned it off again. They would fade in, just fast enough to catch a glimpse, before fading back out. The Varia headquarters was a desolate, tragic place, where many were met with painful, savage ends. Sometimes, the castle was so alive with negative energy that it was almost tangible.

The others could feel it too.

Many times, the others would make up excuses to leave, just to negate the heavy feeling of sorrow that weighed down on them like a wall of bricks that came crashing over them. It was a feeling that made Mammon sick to his stomach many times. Only not from fear, but from melancholy.

"You died a violent death," Mammon began softly as he floated into the shadow of the dark hall, "it's only natural that you haven't realized what has happened to you."

Fade in. Fade out. Crinkle. Like static.

Mammon realized then just how frigid cold it was in the hall. He could see his breath coming out in puffs.

Fade in. Fade out. It was a young man. And by the gaping, bloodied slash stretching diagonally across his chest, Mammon could infer that Squalo's was the last face he saw before he passed.

The barbaric end of a Varia soldier who crossed paths with Superbia Squalo. Mammon sighed as the spirit reached out to him, the unnatural palor of his form accentuated by the pitch black of the hallway.

"I wish I could help you," Mammon said softly as he opened the door to his room, "and there was a time when I could. But that was a long time ago."

The man faded out.

He reappeared briefly down the hallway, his back turned to Mammon as he walked away to some unknown location before quickly disappearing again, this time for good.

Mammon sighed bitterly. "I'm sorry."

_But helping you move on from this world is far beyond __**my**__ capabilities now._

And the door closed behind him softly, gently, in a way that only a baby could close it.

* * *

><p>25:Bread Sticks<p>

_(In which the Varia don't understand the meaning of sharing)_

* * *

><p>"Now, now boys, there's more in the oven, please don't fight~!"<p>

"But **I** had it first." Squalo snapped. Bel smirked back. "Maybe so, but **I'm** a prince, therefore, I so decree, it is now _my_ breadstick. So hands off, filthy peasant."

Lussuria looked between the two fretfully. Levi looked from the escalating scene to Xanxus, ready to throw himself in front of his boss valiantly should fists and limbs start to fly. Xanxus just popped open another bottle of wine, completely ignoring the scene not five feet from him.

"Voi! Let go of my motherfucking breadstick! I don't give a shit if you're a prince! I had it first!"

"I don't give a shit if you don't give a shit. It's mine. You can starve to death for all I care."

"Guys~! Just two more minutes and there will be a whole new basket! Please don't break this table, I like it!"

"You want this breadstick? Bitch?" Bel asked snarkily.

"Can't want it if it's mine!" Squalo hollered back. Bel laughed calmly as he stood up from his seat.

"Well it won't be yours if I do this!" And with that, Bel snatched the breadstick out of Squalo's hand and promptly licked it. The swordsman roared as he threw himself over the table and attacked Bel.

As the two wrestled around on the floor, Fran calmly picked up the now soiled breadstick and threw it at the pair. "What a waste of a breadstick." He said flatly as Lussuria brought out a steaming new basket.

"They could've just shared, but I think they're too primitive to understand that concept."

* * *

><p>26: Ice, Ice, Baby<p>

_(In which Fran dreads his birthday, and for good reason)_

* * *

><p>"Oi, froggy." Bel began casually one afternoon.<p>

"Yeah, sempai?" Fran said cautiously as he turned from looking in the refrigerator for the sandwich he had made earlier (the very sandwich that Belphegor was, in fact, eating quite happily before Fran entered the kitchen).

"Ushi~! Today's your birthday, isn't it?" Bel asked, still acting a bit too nonchalant for the mist guardian's comfort. Fran noticed then that Bel was holding something behind his back. And he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized what it was. Which was precisely the reason why every year on his birthday, Fran avoided Bel like the plague.

But it seemed like no matter what he did, Bel had a way of finding him.

And then…

"Happy Biiiirrthday to yooooou~," Bel began singing slowly as he casually grabbed the back of Fran pants and pulled them open, slipping a finger inside to tug at Fran's plain blue boxers.

"No sempai, please don't." Fran begged flatly. But of course, his plea went unheard.

"Happy Biiiirthday to yooooou~," Bel continued singing as he pulled a ten-pound bag of ice out from behind his back and ripped the clasp off. Fran was squirming in his grip like a piglet ripe for the slaughter, his begging and bargaining sounding more and more like wheeing with each passing second.

"Sempai, come on, don't do this. This is torture!" He pleaded.

"Haaaaaaappy Biiiiiirthdaaaaaayyy Deeeeeeeear FROGGIEEEEEE~~" he sang loudly as he promptly poured the entire bag of ice down into Fran's pants,-

-"…Oh-oh sweet baby Moses in a hand-basket…that is c-c-cold…" Fran squeaked in a voice several octaves higher than normal-

"HAAAAAAPPY BIIIIIRTHDAAAAY TOOOO YOOOOOOUUU~! Ushishi~!"

Fran clutched the counter tightly and began wiggling his tush around, trying to somehow make the ice melt faster. Belphegor stood next to him laughing like an escaped mental patient, his laughter growing louder at the different expressions flitting across Fran's face.

As such, Fran was currently going cross-eyed as the frigid ice-water ran down his bare butt and the backs of his legs. He was alternating between panting softly and cursing like he had developed an acute case of Tourette syndrome as he hopped around and tugged at his now wet pants, making little noises that had Belphegor nearly rolling on the floor in laughter. "…Oh God, Oh God, cold, cold, motherfuck, it's so cold…"

At that moment, Lussuria walked into the kitchen, new dessert cookbook in hand, singing a little tune to himself. He froze immediately when his eyes fell upon his two comrades. Bel was sitting up on the counter, looking like he was one 'Ushishi~' away from having a seizure, while Fran was dancing around the kitchen like a crazed tribal man on the Sarangheti, and, more importantly, dripping water all over the floor that Lussuria had just mopped earlier that morning.

The gaudy martial artist sucked his teeth in mild irritation. "Fran honey," He began as he wandered further into the kitchen, "I know it's your birthday and all, but do you really have to do this odd ritual of yours every single year? I just finished mopping the floor~!"

At that, Belphegor, who was just beginning to calm down, exploded into a hearty new round of laughter, actually falling off the counter and doubling over on the floor, his face pink and wet with tears from laughing.

He never got tired of hearing Lussuria say that.

And he certainly never got tired of cross-eyed Fran wiggling his ass like a retarded duck.

It was just too bad he kept forgetting to bring a camera.

* * *

><p>By the way, 'pantalones' is Spanish for 'pants.' Apparently, Squalo really fuckin' hates pants lol<p>

Oh, and I don't know if anyone knows Fran's exact birthday, but I remember reading somewhere that he's a Sagittarius like Bel, which means his b-day is somewhere in November or December. I just took a wild guess and said November. Fran seems like a November-y kind of guy to me.

And I'm wondering how many of you will catch the clever little thing I did in this chapter. Hint: If you really love Fran, you'll notice right away.

Anyway, Read and Review lovelies~!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Hey all, it's been a while…hasn't it?

It was nice to get back to this story after a couple of months. I was out of ideas for a while, but I am finally struck with inspiration again!

So yeah, there's only one story for this chapter, because every member of the Varia will get their own stand –alone chapter. In this case, it's Squalo's turn.

Do not fret though, I am not posting this and then reshelving this fic for another month or so. I'm working on the next chapter already, so it'll be up in a day or so, most likely some time this weekend.

Anyway, warnings: Language, themes and content, Canon!Varia.

Disclaimer: Sushi*Bomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

* * *

><p>27: Assertion<p>

_(In which Squalo demonstrates the Varia's true capacity for cruelty)_

* * *

><p>The only thing Levi hated more than breaking in the new recruits, was breaking in new recruits sent over from the main Vongola estate. Xanxus had told Nono, time and time again, that it was a much quicker process to train recruits that they scouted on their own than to train men who previously worked in other fields that related to the mafia.<p>

But for some reason, Nono refused to see eye-to-eye with his adoptive son on this particular issue, and made it a regular occurrence to ship his best men over to the Varia estate. He felt the best should fight alongside the best, and under his son's tutelage, his men, normally just regular bodyguards and small-time hitmen from the family, could make a name for themselves by donning the infamous Varia uniform and title.

However, the members of the Varia themselves saw things very differently.

The scouting process and general qualifications for a Varia soldier ranked several tiers above the normal mafia recruitment process in difficulty. Over the years, the Varia Independent Assassination Squad quickly established themselves as not just an elite force of fighters, but a capable espionage and intelligence network, among numerous other things, and as the organization grew, so did the need for competent, capable underlings.

And to Levi's annoyance that rainy Thursday morning, the latest group of men sent over from the main estate were everything _but_ competent, let alone capable. They would barely pass as watchmen, or, even lower on the Varia foodchain: messengers to Xanxus. Men in that job class usually tended to die fairly quickly.

But as much as Levi hated breaking in men from the estate, the only thing worse than that was the fact that Squalo was the one out training them with him.

Out of the six core members of the Varia, Squalo was the one who most despised the task of training recruits. His temperament was not one suited for the role, as it was not suited for many other things. But then again, compared to the rest of the group, he was the one who got the most accomplished. When Bel and Fran broke in recruits, it wasn't uncommon for a group of fifteen to twenty fairly capable men to somehow become five to ten men nearly shitting their pants, the rest either knife-riddled corpses or screaming and clawing at their eyes until they managed to gauge them out. And if Lussuria was in charge…

…_So,_ at the end of the day, Squalo, along with one of the others, was usually the one left with the task of training the recruits.

Plus, seeing Squalo angry made Xanxus slightly less moody.

Case in point: Squalo abhorred being out in the rain, and he abhorred dealing with new soldiers. Especially if they were clearly not cut out for the sort of missions the Varia took on a daily basis.

The sword emperor came out looking more sour than usual, the mild rain forcing him to tie his hair up into ponytail to keep it in check. Squalo was a prideful man, and he hated appearing unkept in anyone's presence, especially new recruits. He was oddly silent as he came to stand next to Levi, cursing to himself as he shrugged off the fur-lined hood of his uniform, despite the increasing heaviness of the rainfall.

"What a bunch of spineless fuckers. Why the fuck does Xanxus make me waste my precious goddamned time with this shit." Squalo snapped. Levi just shrugged, wary of the fact that he was on Squalo's left. And that sword was gleaming rather ominously, the raindrops dripping off of it like saliva dripping from the teeth of a vicious predator. Especially as Squalo left his side and siddled up to the group of men; his sharp blue eyes, already narrowed in their usual disparaged and irritated way, narrowed even further as he began his ritual circling around the recruits.

"Voi, listen up. I won't waste time with pleasantries, because you fuckers already know why you're here. Line up. Three rows of five, shortest men in front. Move it." And with a snap of his fingers, the group of trainees scurried around, like little roaches, as Bel would often call them, to line up as Squalo had instructed.

After only thirty-six short seconds, the recruits were lined up, exactly to Squalo's specifications, each man staring anywhere and everywhere but directly at the legendary swordsman and second-in-command of the Varia.

Levi nodded once in approval. At least they were quicker than the last group.

Squalo, however, remained unimpressed.

"Hmmph. They're too damn slow. Just what I've come to expect from the main estate." Levi heard Squalo grunt to himself as he continued his almost predatory pacing around the stark silent group of men.

As much as Levi hated t admit it, there really was no one better suited for this job than Squalo. The swordsman had a natural air about him that commanded fear and respect, emphasis on _fear_, and Squalo most certainly used that to his advantage. He walked past each man slowly, eyeing them, scrutinizing them, relishing in the slight tremors of their bodies when his eyes lingered a bit too long. If he had to suffer through this, then by the Gods would he bring them all down with him.

Levi could almost hear them praying to themselves. Not that it would help them much.

Squalo, for all of his usual obnoxious loudness, was a master in the art of breaking recruits with minimal speech. He relied strictly on body language and eye signals to get his messages across, and his methods were more effective than anyone else combined.

After several minutes, Squalo finally stopped in front of one of the taller recruits, eyes narrowed inscrutably as he sized the man up.

The man was tense, even though he stood eye-to-eye with Squalo and had a good twenty or so pounds on him, especially as Squalo took to circling him personally. The recruits in the immediate area edged away as stealthily as they could to give the Varia commander, or more specifically, his sword, room as Squalo scrutinized the one solo recruit, not uttering a single word or sound.

Levi could see the panic written all over the man's face, and rightfully so, he thought.

When Superbia Squalo singled someone out, it was usually for one of two reasons. And neither were very pleasant.

And Levi knew how important it was to Squalo to establish his dominance right off the bat.

One clean slash.

So fast even Levi almost missed it.

The man was on the ground, as cold and lifeless as the rainy weather Squalo hated so much, his blood dripping off of Squalo's sword, his face, and the faces of the pale, wide-eyed, and shaking recruits to the left and right of him.

Squalo casually wiped his sword off on one of their sleeves, not once offering a single word, before abruptly turning around and walking inside, the heavy double doors closing behind him.

The attack was without reason and provocation, and yet the message behind it was crystal clear to every single man standing there.

_You may have been the best in your respective positions back at the main house, but here, you are nothing but a pawn. An expendable asset. If I smell an ounce of fear, or any hint of disloyalty, step one toe out of line, and I will break you where you stand. _

_Welcome to the Varia._

* * *

><p>Hope you guys liked it. By the way, the next few chapters are going to focus on the Varia's mafia-related dealings, as well as relationships with others outside of the Varia, since both of those ideas are hardly touched on for some reason, and I happen to enjoy those kinds of things, so yeah.<p>

P.S. I am laying the groundwork for a few other fics (they're just one-shots, so relax! No more multi-chaptered stories for me) in the next few chapters, as well as shedding some light onto others, so just putting that out there. If something doesn't make sense right away, don't worry. It will soon.

P.S.S. I hope you guys noticed something about this chapter. Big hint: Everything is connected in all of my fics, in one way or another.

Toodles!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Sorry, this took longer to come out than I meant it to. I got kinda side-tracked, what with the fabulousness of the latest KHR manga chapters and all. You guys don't understand how hard I boner for Viper. I've been waiting for that since forever. Also, yeah, I really like Fon x Viper now.

Buuuuuuuuuut enough about _that_.

Like I said last chapter, the next couple of chapters deal with the Varia's intermafia relations, and how they conduct business and the like. There's only two this time, but there will be more to follow, so yeah. The Vongola boys will be making appearances soon, so I'm sure you are all shitting bricks.

(Don't do that by the way, it sounds kind of painful :X)

I'm also laying some groundwork for a couple of future stories. Again, not in this chapter, but in the next few coming up, so be on the look out!

Which reminds me, I'm kinda sad that no one noticed what I was talking about last chapter. I thought it was pretty obvious, but, I guess it wasn't that obvious. Meh, whatever. But for those of you who _did_ notice, and just didn't review or anything, I think you will also notice something interesting about this chapter too. Sue me, I like throwing things in to see who is really paying attention!

I wonder, how many of you will catch it?

And how many of you are going to reread the previous chapter to figure out what you missed?

If someone does realize either one or both of the things I'm talking about, I'll dedicate a short in this to you. This'll be a little contest of sorts, because I'm a derp and I enjoy things like that. I left a hint at the bottom for you guys.

With all of that being said, read on!

Disclaimer: Sushi*Bomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

* * *

><p>28: Nonpareils<p>

_(In which the line between business and pleasure fades)_

* * *

><p>He knew something was off the minute the strange man walked into the shop.<p>

He had never seen him in those parts before; he knew everyone in Florence, if only because he ran it. Everyone knew his name, and they understood that he was not one to be crossed without swift and cruel retribution. Not a single person dared to breathe in his town without asking his permission, and he liked it that way.

He took care of his town, though he ruled it with an iron hand; fear was the only reliable means of keeping order, but he took care of those who paid their weekly tributes on time and placated him the best they could.

"Welcome, friend. What can I do for you?" He greeted, despite his inner apprehension. The man simply smiled as he eyed the assortment of sweets behind the glass display.

He had never seen the man before, and yet, something about him seemed so familiar, as if this stranger was someone he should've known, or had met at some point in his life. But he remembered every face, and he was certain he would remember a fellow with something as distinct as a red and green Mohawk walking around with a feather boa on.

People that ridiculous tend to get noticed right away. And they usually left a lasting impression.

"I heard the nonpareils here are the best in Italy. Is that true?" The man asked casually, still eyeing the selection from behind dark sunglasses.

"Sure are, my friend. I figured you weren't from around here, what part of Italy do you come from?"

He had a few of his boys right outside the shop, as well as in the back room, where his real money was coming in. They were always within earshot, always ready for bloodshed and chaos, and that feeling was so palpable in the streets, that people went out of their way to avoid walking by his shop, unless they had business with him.

And having business with him was _rarely_ a good thing.

And yet, this man swaggered into his shop so casually, with that knowing little smile, not even sparing his generals, who were huddled around a table in the corner and had their cold stares glued on him, a passing a glance. As if they weren't even there.

Either this man was incredibly ballsy, or incredibly oblivious.

"Oh, I live in Naples," He said amiably, "but I'm here in Florence on some business today."

"I see."

After a few moments, the man came closer to the counter, a slight pout on his face.

"Do you have white chocolate nonpareils? Those are my favorite."

"Of course, sir. They're in the back though, so let me go grab a tray. I'll just be a second." He said before excusing himself. It made him quite uneasy, turning his back on this stranger. He couldn't place it, but the man, despite his disarming and friendly disposition, had a resolute coldness about him that put even his generals on edge. That pleasant smile, he could see, didn't reach the man's eyes. He could tell that, even if the man's eyes were hidden behind dark shades.

It made him wonder exactly what type of 'business' the man had in his town.

He returned not a minute later, a tray of delicate, sprinkled white chocolate nonpareils in his hands. The man was still standing in the same place he left him, humming a tune to himself as he checked his cell phone.

His henchmen were still sitting in the back, watching the man, just as they were a moment ago.

But something felt wrong.

He had a sharp intuition; one did not rise to the top of a mafia family without one, and somewhere in his mind, thousands of alarms were going off.

The man looked up from his phone at the sound of the thin metal tray being placed on the counter in front of him, the same jovial yet oddly chilled smile on his face.

"Oh don't they look splendid~!" He said giddily. "How much?"

"Five per pound."

"Fair enough. I'll take a pound and a half, if you please."

"Right away, sir. Oh, out of curiosity," he began casually as he siphoned a section of the tray's contents into a silver box, "what sort of business do you have here in Florence?"

"Oh, I think you know the answer to _that_ already." The man said with a chuckle.

One of the nonpareils slid off the tray and onto the floor.

"Say again, friend?" He asked, an edge in his voice that would normally send the person on the opposite end of it into a flurry of excuses and apologies. But as he expected, the man didn't even flinch.

"You are Fernando Corleoni, head of the Corleoni family that has had control of Florence for about twelve years now, is that correct?"

"I am. And what business do you have with me, stranger?" He asked, voice strained as he looked as discreetly as he could over the man's shoulder, at his two generals sitting in the corner.

"Don't bother with them," the man said with a smile, "they've been dead for about three minutes now."

"What!"

In an instant, the man was behind him, his breath warm on the shell of his ear. "A message, from the Vongola," he began quietly, "Florence will be absorbed into the Vongola Famiglia's territory. I'm sorry, Don Corleoni, but your entire family of peons is now obsolete~."

"The Vongola!"

And right then, as the jab to the back of his neck shattered his neck with enough force to send a reverberating crack down his entire spinal column, and his vision began to fade to black, Don Corleoni instantly realized who the man was.

Part of him felt strangely honored to be considered important enough to be assassinated by a member of the infamous Varia Organization. It meant that the Corleonis were big enough to be noticed by the most influential family in the entire Mafia world.

To him, it was true validation.

* * *

><p>"Took you long enough." Levi snapped as Lussuria walked out of the small boutique, humming the same little tune that he was humming when he walked in. Lussuria shrugged affably as he held up a silver box.<p>

"I _wanted_ my nonpareils, darling. I had to wait for the late Don Corleoni to fetch them for me from the back. Want one?"

Levi made a disgusted face. "I hate white chocolate."

Lussuria scoffed. "Hmmph. Your loss then."

* * *

><p>"It's a shame though," Lussuria mentioned later that night in Xanxus' office, his little box of sweets still in hand as he presented both his mission report and the news footage of the Corleoni murder case to the Varia boss.<p>

"Corleoni's nonpareils really were the best in Italy."

* * *

><p>29: Price-Tag<p>

_(In which the terms of a contract are negotiated)_

* * *

><p>Don Paolo Cantatore was a shrewd man by nature; he had remained the Don of his family for over twenty years only because he ruled his family with an iron fist and always kept his wits about him. An astute mind was a quality he found not only likable in a person, but it became a basic requirement in any and all he dealt with, whether his dealings involved business, pleasure, or occasionally both.<p>

But shrewdness, it seemed, did not run in his family, as much as it pained him to admit this. Unlike in Nono's family.

Though he was not his own flesh and blood, the adopted son of Vongola Nono, Xanxus, possessed the same cunning, hyper- aware personality that his dear friend and business associate had.

And yet at the same time, just sitting across the table from the Varia commander made Don Cantatore horribly uneasy. He would even dare to say, in the privacy of his thoughts, that Xanxus was the most intimidating man he'd ever done business with. Or even met at all, for that matter.

Despite the fact that Nono was sitting at the end of the table, not three feet away, it felt similar to sitting in the same room as a rogue lion that hadn't eaten in days. Even as Xanxus reclined back in his chair, yawning lazily into the back of his hand, Don Cantatore didn't doubt for even a second that this man, with his organization of crazed, bloodthirsty killers, would be the one to solve the Alliance's problem.

The problem that was his own flesh and blood.

He had turned a blind eye to his son's not-so-secret dealings far too many times already, and as much as he cared for Giancarlo as his son, Paolo Cantatore was a mafioso first, and a father second. The integrity of the Vongola-Cantatore alliance, as well as the alliances with the other prominent mafia families in Italy, took precedence even over the life of his reckless offspring.

Even though it hurt.

"I want this dealt with as quickly and secretly as possible. I have heard of the Varia's demonic abilities in the past, but understand that I am entrusting this mission to your organization solely because of Nono's recommendation."

Xanxus, who had not bothered to even open his eyes yet, crooked a finger in the Don's direction. Don Cantatore stood and slid a thin folder across the glass table to the dark-haired man. Xanxus caught the folder with a lazy finger before it slid off the side of the table, cracking an eye open as he turned it rightways.

The room remained silent for several minutes as the Varia commander thumbed through the contents of the folder, his penetrating gaze lingering on the lone photograph that slipped out. After a few minutes, Xanxus tossed the folder back on the table, his attention now fully on Don Cantatore.

"When is this assassination to take place?" He asked tersely. Cantatore puffed at the thick cigar clenched between his teeth for several tense moments, before finally replying.

"One week from now. My son will be in Paris then. I'd rather the hit take place outside of Italy, primarily out of Naples."

Xanxus smirked. "You mean, _outside_ the jurisdiction of the Italian authorities. They've detained Giancarlo before, haven't they? Any sort of incident concerning him, especially an obvious mafia hit, will immediately bring heat down on the alliance of the families. Am I correct?"

Cantatore nodded slowly as he dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. The Don was still puffing away at his cigar, his anxiety rising higher with each word.

"Unfortunately, you are correct. Giancarlo has been arrested several times on charges of possession with intent, and his complete disregard for our already strained alliances with the other families is putting everyone on edge. If someone were to assassinate him on Italian soil, the suspicion of the authorities would immediately turn to the Cantatore family, and consequently, the entire alliance of our respective families." Paolo said, heaving a tired sigh as he took a swig of his wine before continuing.

"So, you see, this must be carried out as inconspicuously as possible. Hell, make it look like an accident if you can. Naturally, I will be putting forth a handsome fee for this hit, as well as Nono." Cantatore said, turning towards the finally member of the deal, who had remained tentatively silent through the whole talk.

Nono nodded, sighing under his breath. "Yes. The Vongola famiglia will put forth half of the fee."

Xanxus pursed his lips in thought. "And how much are you willing to pay for the Varia to off your own son?" He asked with a slightly feral, almost cruel smirk.

Nono gave the dark-haired man an incensed look before turning to his friend and fellow Don.

Cantatore downed the rest of his wine. "Four million." He said curtly after several moments.

Xanxus made a pensive noise as he reclined back in his seat. "Four million, hmm? Seems a little low for a hit of this magnitude."

"Xanxus-"

"How dare you? I'm not asking you to assassinate the Pope or something. I think that price is more than reasonable, considering my son holds no rank within the family."

Xanxus scoffed. "Well, Don Cantatore, considering no one in the Varia would even get out of _bed_ for less than _ten_ million, myself included, I think you're being a little cheap. Frankly, it's fuckin' insulting that you think you can have us pull a hit like this, and then have the balls to try and pay us off with chump change."

Cantatore growled lowly, abruptly turning to Nono. "What do you think, Nono?"

Nono looked between two for a few moments, his head cradled in the palm of his hand in mild irritation. "Unfortunately, I am inclined to agree with my son this time, Paolo. The Varia are the best of the best, but I never said that they were reasonably priced."

Cantatore's shoulders slumped slightly at the unexpected answer, but he nodded regardless.

"Fine. I'll triple it. But only if Nono is in agreement with it."

Xanxus chuckled lowly. "Oh, he can pay. I'm not concerned about that at all."

Nono simply nodded.

"Well then," Cantatore began, "twelve million it is then."

Xanxus stood up with a dismissive nod, "Fine then. I'll have Squalo arrange the formal contract, and we'll meet again during the week to fill out the paperwork."

And with that, Xanxus was out the door.

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>Xanxus?"<strong>_

"What is it?"

"_**Paolo and I had a long talk after you left, and there is something I would like you to keep in mind when you brief your subordinates."**_

"And what would that be?"

"_**We feel that it would be best if this arrangement stayed between the three of us. I know that your men are not the types to go out and spill secrets, but for safety's sake, please don't mention that Paolo is the one really ordering the hit. There is a lot riding on this assassination, yes, but Paolo's honor is also at stake. I'd rather shoulder the entire responsibility for ordering this hit than for Paolo to look like a cold-blooded killer for having his own son murdered. Do you understand?"**_

"…"

"_**Xanxus?"**_

"Yeah. I understand."

"_**Good. I'll be in touch. Good night."**_

"Mm."

_**Click**_**.**

* * *

><p>Well? What are your thoughts? If you realized the one special detail I mentioned, or if you just liked the stories, leave me a review! This goes for the last chapter too. The first person who notices gets a short dedicated to them. I'll be more specific about that later though.<p>

Hint: One is in reference to something that was previously mentioned, and the other is in reference to another story entirely. I think the second one will be way more obvious though, just throwing that out there.

Well, see you when I see you!

-S*B


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Hey guys, next chapter is finally here! And guess what? The Vongola boys have finally made their appearances.

So a few things first. To **CoffeeJailBreak**, you were the first person to make a correct guess in regards to the stories. The second part of chapter ten _is_ in fact something of a prequel to _Dancing in the Dark_. You were also right about Squalo hating the rain, but that's not what I really wanted you all to notice.

The real importance of chapter nine was in connection to _Static_, a short in one of the previous chapters. The one about Mammon seeing the ghost in the hallway. The ghost was the soldier Squalo kills in chapter nine. I'm a little bummed that no one caught that, because I thought it was pretty clever. But hey, that's probably me just tooting my own horn, as usual.

But I digress. Coffee, you get a short dedicated to you! Just email me a prompt or PM me and we'll talk about it.

So uh, warnings for this chapter: The usual, language, content, themes, etc. Oh and the last one is a bit of a tear-jerker. I was sobbing like a baby through typing most of it. But then again, I cry when I step on snails outside when it rains and they're all over my front step, so it might not be that bad. Sooo…yeah. If you cry easily, like I do, ya might want to skip it.

I feel like there is something else I need to say…but I can't quite remember what it is…I'll remember right after I post this. Bet.

Disclaimer: SushiBomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

* * *

><p>30: Email<p>

_(In which Tsuna really shouldn't be as surprised as he is)_

* * *

><p>Tsuna blinked once. Twice. Three times.<p>

"Fran…"

"_**Yeah?"**_ Came the monotone drawl from the other line. Tsuna let the mouse hover over the link. It said 'To Sawada,' so clearly it was meant for him, but…

Tsuna cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um…I think I just got your email, but I'm not really sure if it's you…?"

"_**Well, it says your name on it, Tsuna." **_

"Yeah, I got that. But…"

"_**But?"**_

Tsuna let out a laugh that sounded like something akin to a man laughing at his dog getting ran over by an eighteen-wheeler. One of those laughs that meant you were on the verge of either crying, a nervous breakdown, or possibly both.

"Of all the weird things I've seen online..._babygenitals69_? Fran, that's probably the most suspicious email address I've ever seen in my life. If my name hadn't been on it, I would've assumed it was a link to Cambodian child porn or something."

"_**Oh that,"**_ Fran said in that blasé manner of his, as if he were talking about something much less questionable, like what he wanted for lunch, _**"I wanted something unique, like me."**_

"Somehow, I don't think that's the whole story, Fran." Tsuna said as he settled back in his computer chair.

A sigh came from the other line. "_**Well, I originally wanted to use 'Fran' as my username, but apparently, you can't do that, so I figured I'd pick something I could remember easily. And at the time I was watching one of those medical shows on TV where they talk about like childbirth and stuff, and so I thought, 'Ahh! What about babygenitals? I'm pretty sure that's not taken."**_

"Well I'm pretty sure you were right about that!That's so creepy!"

_**"Yep, I know. I like the shock factor."**_

"Fran, coming from anyone else, I would ask them what was wrong with them."

"_**It's a great email address, Sawada. Don't be jealous."**_

Tsuna snickered. "Whatever you say Fran, whatever you say."

* * *

><p>31: B.F.F.<p>

_(In which Dino comes to visit)_

* * *

><p>"Hey, long time no see, Mr. Big-shot commander." A familiarly irritating voice came from the doorway, forcing Squalo to look up from his paperwork. Paperwork that he was already a day behind on, as a matter of fact. The swordsman set his pen down and settled back in his seat. To his immense chagrin, he saw Dino standing with one shoulder leaning on the ornate wooden door to his office, a lazy smile on his face. The blonde boss waved in greeting when Squalo looked up.<p>

"Nice to see you again, Squalo." He said charmingly, to which Squalo simply rolled his eyes and stood up.

"Same." He said curtly as he came to stand in front of Dino. The Cavallone boss stuck his hand out for a handshake as Squalo got closer, and it was then Squalo noticed something strange. Something was missing from this picture. Or more like...some_one_. Squalo walked right past Dino, who was still holding his hand out, to look out into the hallway.

"Nice to see you too, Squalo." He heard Dino say from behind him. He could almost hear the pout in the blonde's voice. But nonetheless, Squalo looked down both ends of the hallway.

Nothing.

The swordsman turned to the still smiling Cavallone boss, a look not unlike irritation and possibly nervousness on his pale face.

"Dino?" Squalo began, voice strained. Dino gave the swordsman an innocent smile.

"Yeah?"

"Where is Romario?"

Dino laughed dismissively. "Oh, he has a cold, so he stayed home." The blonde said, waving his hand idly.

Squalo twitched. "So who came with you then?" He snapped.

Dino gave him a strange look. "What? I came alone! I had some business with Tsuna over at the Vongola estate and well, I was in the area, so I thought- Squalo, where are you going...?" Dino trailed off as Squalo abruptly turned and walked (rather briskly) back towards his desk. He immediately picked up his cell phone and began dialing a number.

"Squalo," Dino began as he walked further into the room, only to be soundly stopped by the sheer force of Squalo's voice.

"VOI!" The swordsman shouted, "Don't you take one more step! I mean it Dino, I will fucking kill you if you move!"

Dino held his hands up in defense. "Okay, okay! Who're you calling?"

"My insurance agent." Squalo said bluntly.

Dino blanched. "Aw come on, Squalo! I'm not _that_ clumsy anymore! Honest!"

Squalo gave him a disbelieving look. Dino waved his hands wildly. "No seriously! I drove here by myself and everything! I promise I won't break anything!"

Squalo rolled his in frustration, but hung up the phone nonetheless. "Fine, you can stay," He grit out as he massaged his temples. Somehow, Squalo always found himself nursing a headache whenever he had to deal with the blonde Mafioso. He supposed it was a good thing they were childhood friends, or the Cavallone family would have found themselves one Dino Cavallone short.

Especially since…

_Crash!_

"Squalo! I swear I didn't touch it! I was just looking at it, and it fell over somehow! You have to believe me!"

…No matter how much he insisted, Dino would probably never grow out of his clumsiness. If Dino was around, it was inevitable that something was going to wind up broken or lost forever. Whether that something was one of Dino's bones, or something of _actual_ value, like the two hundred dollar fountain pen (which had been Squalo's favorite pen) that Dino had accidentally chucked out a window in a bizarre turn of events, remained one of the great mysteries of life. Squalo sighed as he reclined back in his seat, pointedly tuning out Dino's frantic declarations of compensation in the background.

It was just a good thing that rack of decorative swords was fully insured for fifty thousand dollars. Because otherwise, he'd never see a new rack in his office. He was still waiting for Dino to get him a new pen, after all.

* * *

><p>32: Tease<p>

_(In which Gokudera decides he is the perfect candidate for an amputation)_

* * *

><p>They were all traitors. Each and every one of them.<p>

Not Tsuna, of course. The tenth could do no wrong in Gokudera's eyes, so he spread the blame that would've been Tsuna's portion to bear among the other members of the family. Mostly on the dark haired idiot who was currently relishing in Gokudera's misery, one Takeshi Yamamoto, who purposely walked around the table and sat next to Squalo, just because he could.

Mukuro would've rather sold his soul than to sit next to him, for some obscure reason. The illusionist gave him a devilish little grin before planting himself two seats down, Fran on his left. Ryohei was settled diagonally from him, next to Lussuria. Hibari stood just shy of the large oval table, resting casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he waited with closed eyes for the meeting to begin.

Which left the seat on Gokudera's right completely open.

And that meant…

"Hey Hayato-kun, it was nice of you to save me a seat. Ushishi~!"

...that naturally, Belphegor would flounce in, like the frivolous little psychopath that he was, million-watt smile in place as soon as he realized that the only vacant seat was between Fran and his favorite person in the Vongola Decimo's family.

Gokudera rolled his eyes and unconsciously fished a cigarette out of the breast pocket of his Armani suit. Lord knew he was going to need it. No sooner had the meeting begun when Gokudera felt an unfortunately familiar hand on his leg, just above his knee. He glanced away from Tsuna, who was currently speaking, for a moment to glare at the blonde prince sitting next to him. Belphegor looked suspiciously nonchalant, writing something down with his right hand, purposely looking focused on his notes.

Gokudera scoffed.

Belphegor never wrote things down. They all knew he could probably repeat everything Tsuna had just said verbatim, for Christ's sake. Who the hell was he trying to fool?

"Move your hand." Gokudera hissed as quietly as he could. The prince's lips curled at the end.

"Sure."

The hand slid upward.

"You know that's not what I meant."

The hand slid up more.

"I'm sorry Hayato-kun, I'm trying to listen to Sawada, do you mind?" Belphegor said in a normal tone, which drew the attention of the entire room. Gokudera flushed as he looked around. Everyone was giving the pair that same knowing look; a teasing smirk hidden behind a hand, or a glass of water. Some where just there in plain sight, blatantly enjoying his misfortune.

It had been ten years since they battled the Varia, and Belphegor still had not dropped his obnoxious habit of flirting with him when he got the chance. Sometimes Gokudera wondered if Belphegor actually had a legitimate sexual attraction to him, or if the prince was simply such a sadist at heart that he feigned homosexuality just to see Gokudera squirm.

Gokudera sighed in resignation and leaned back in his seat. The hand slid up and down his thigh, massaging it in what was meant to be a comforting way, but turned out to be more mocking than anything.

Yep, it was definitely the latter.

He could almost feel the sadistic glee radiating off of Belphegor in waves. Gokudera knew that part of it was that he made it much too easy for the prince to get a rise out of him; his temper wasn't as bad as it was when he was younger, but Belphegor, who was still just as flippant and mischievous as he was ten years ago, had many..._effective_ ways of getting under his skin. Making him uncomfortable was one of Belphegor's main joys in life, where the Decimo's family was concerned, and as hard as Gokudera tried to ignore him, Belphegor could and would always make that impossible for him.

"Your thigh is _so_ firm, Hayato-kun. I'd _love_ to see you outta that suit one day." The prince whispered slyly as he let his hand glide the rest of the way up Gokudera's thigh.

Gokudera turned to the smirking blonde, a stern glare on his face. "Like. Hell. Knife. Bastard."

Belphegor pouted in mock sadness. "You sure? I'm _very _good."

Gokudera blanched. "At what, pray-tell?"

The prince's response was an extremely suggestive smile/lewd tongue motion two-hit combo, along with his hand dipping between Gokudera's legs and giving Gokudera's 'nethers' a hearty squeeze. Needless to say, Gokudera immediately shot up like a rocket, hand clutching his parts delicate as he ran out the door, but not before shouting, "You need to get that kinky bastard fucking fixed!"

As soon as they got back to Japan, Gokudera thought as he ran down the hall blindly, he was going to check into a hospital and voluntarily have the entire bottom half of his body removed.

Belphegor couldn't molest him if there was nothing _to_ molest, now could he?

* * *

><p>The others watched in a mixture of awe, confusion, irritation, and frank amusement as the Vongola's storm guardian screamed and ran out the door. Naturally, everyone turned to Belphegor for answers. The prince, of course, feigned innocence.<p>

"What?" He said nonchalantly. "I didn't do anything to him, I just asked him a question. _Honest._"

* * *

><p>33: Candyman<p>

_(In which Lambo wants what Levi has)_

* * *

><p><em>Man<em>, Levi thought as he looked away for the seventh time, _this kid is goddamn persistent._

Lambo sat next to him, staring intently at the lollipop Levi has just popped into his mouth not two minutes ago. Finally, after nearly five minutes of (admittedly unnerving) staring on the young Mafioso's part, Levi finally caved and decided to humor the little boy.

"What the hell are you looking at, kid?" He asked gruffly. Lambo blinked.

"That lollipop." He said frankly, pointing to, not the one in Levi's mouth, but this time at the one tucked in Levi's shirt pocket.

"But it's mine." Levi said, covering it with his hand. Lambo scooted closer. "But I want it." He said insistently.

"You can't have it."

"But Lambo-san likes lollipops."

"So does Levi-san." Levi said mockingly. Lambo regarded him officiously. "But Lambo-san is not ugly like you. So you should give that lollipop to me."

"Wh-what did you call me?" Levi sputtered.

Lambo sat next to him, casually picking his tiny nose as he watched the TV. "You're ugly." He repeated bluntly. "Ugly people shouldn't be allowed to eat yummy things."

Levi growled. "Why you little-"

"You won't be ugly anymore if you give me that lollipop though." Lambo said, casting him a cheeky sideways glance.

Levi glared down at the little thunder guardian. "I'm not ugly. And I'm not giving you this lollipop."

"Why?" The little boy whined.

"Because you're annoying!" Levi snapped angrily. But to his surprise, instead of the little boy's obnoxious laughter or a rude retort, Lambo looked up at him with quickly watering eyes, making little whimpering noises for effect.

Levi sighed in resignation. "Aww, come on kid…" He started. Lambo's bottom lip began to tremble.

"I didn't mean it, you just made me mad, that's all." Levi said pleadingly. Large tears began to pour down Lambo's cheeks, the little boy hiccupping every so often.

Levi groaned to himself before reaching in his shirt pocket and pulling out the lollipop.

"Fiiiiine. You can have the damn lollipop."

At that, Lambo's face brightened right away. The little boy stood up on the couch and took the treat from Levi's hand eagerly, laughing proudly to himself.

"Gyehehehe! Lambo-san's plan worked!" He shrieked at the top of his lungs as he ripped the wrapper from the lollipop and shoved it in his mouth, still laughing loudly as he jumped off the couch and ran off. Levi just looked at the little boy incredulously before shrugging in defeat and turning back to the television.

_Kids_.

* * *

><p>34: Boop!<p>

_(In which Mammon is irritated, Fran is annoying, and Mukuro is just amused)_

* * *

><p>"As I was saying, Rokudo Mukuro," Mammon began as he, once again, swatted Fran's hand away from his face, "you've done your part, so I will be taking over and instructing the boy for a while. He's much too soft to be a valuable asset to us just-"<p>

"-Boop!-"

"-Fran, I said stop doing that!"

"Aww, but Mammon-san," Fran drawled as he poked the baby illusionist on the nose again, "You're just so little and cute, I can't help myself."

"You see that?" Mammon sputtered angrily, pointedly ignoring Mukuro's amused chuckles at the scene in front of him. "This is the result of him training under a degenerate like you for so long."

Mukuro pouted in mock hurt. "Oya, oya, Mammon, that is quite rude. Especially since this 'degenerate' bested you in battle long ago. I wonder if you are really better-suited to instruct my protégé than I am. I mean," He said with a chuckle, "you're just so _adorable_, I don't know if Fran can even take you seriously."

Mammon scoffed. "I don't think Fran takes _anything_ seriously. And you may have-"

Poke. "-Boop!-"

"-bested me once before. But rest assured, Fran will realize his-"

Poke. "-Boop!-"

"-full potential under my tutelage, and-"

Poke. "-Boop!-"

"Fran, I am trying to speak. Do you mind?"

Fran blinked. "Oh, not at all, Mammon-san." He said blithely, settling for pinching Mammon's cheek between his thumb and index finger while making cutesy noises at the infant instead.

"Fran." Mammon began calmly.

_Pinch Pinch._

"Yeah?"

"I can talk even _less_ with you doing _that_." The mist Arcobaleno said irately.

"Okay." The green-haired illusionist said as he continued to pinch Mammon's cheek.

"Well then, stop!" Mammon snapped, the authority in his voice completely overshadowed by his high-pitched infant voice.

"Aww," Fran cooed mockingly, "Master, I think it's time for Mammon-san's nap. He always gets cranky around this time if he misses it. You need to leave so I can put him to bed." The monotone illusionist said magnanimously, completely ignoring Mammon's frustrated growl.

"I don't need a nap, you twit. I need you to stop poking and cuddling me like some sort of children's doll!"

"But Mammon-san, you're so cute. I always thought Bel-sempai was just being creepy when he talked about how cute you were, but now I believe him. I feel like I need to hug you a certain number of times a day, or the world might end or something." Fran said matter-of-factly.

"Well, in the spirit of fairness," Mukuro began,"That blonde-haired psychopath is creepy in every sense of the word. But he was right, little Arcobaleno. You are simply _precious_, especially when you're mad." Mukuro said teasingly.

Poke. "-Boop!-"

"Fran!"

"It's naptime for the baaaaaaby." Fran said flatly as he scooped Mammon up from his perch, nuzzling Mammon's nose against his own.

"Have a nice rest, Arcobaleno."

Mammon promptly slapped Fran's face away, earning a half-assed 'ouch' from Fran and wiggled out of his grip. The little illusionist floated away from the pair, but not before saying, "You know, when the two of you are together, I suddenly understand how it is Fran came to be your pupil. I don't know which one of you is more obnoxious! If I didn't know better, I'd say you two were related, because you're both evil!"

And with that, the mist Arcobaleno vanished. Once the infant was gone, Mukuro turned to his young protégé. "Fran?"

"Hmm?"

"I have a question for you. And be honest. Is Mammon a better teacher than I am?"

"Yeah." Fran said bluntly. Mukuro twitched. "O-oh, alright then."

"What are you mad for? You're the one who said to be honest." Fran pointed out.

"Not that honest, you buffoon." Mukuro snapped before shoving his trident into Fran's hat and stomping away in a huff.

Fran sighed glumly.

"Man, first Mammon slaps me for giving him a compliment, and then Master stabs me for telling the truth. This is what I get for trying to be a good person. What a sucky life I live."

* * *

><p>35: The Sheltering Rain<p>

_(In which Squalo shares some words of wisdom with Yamamoto)_

* * *

><p>It was raining for the third day in a row, Squalo realized bitterly.<p>

The sky was pitch black; severe-looking streaks of lightning illuminating the sky every so often. The dark clouds hung over Namimori the way they hung over the Vongola family that autumn day.

He'd been standing there for about three hours, completely motionless. If one had not thought to look twice, they would've walked right past him, thinking he was merely a statue of some sort. It seemed that unlike him, the kid didn't mind the rain at all. Or, Squalo thought grimly, he was too deep in his thoughts to realize that the light drizzle from this morning had become a full-on downpour.

It was annoying, to be honest. It bothered Squalo, the way Yamamoto held his composure throughout the whole thing. While the others cried for him, he held it together for them, with nothing but a soft, forlorn smile and glassy eyes as everyone said their private goodbyes at the wake.

Tsuna cried the hardest for his sake, because he had never intended for Yamamoto to get as involved as he was. The future Vongola boss sat on the black cushion in front of the altar that day, silent tears streaming down his face with a set of _juzu_ clutched tightly in his hand, begging Buddha himself for forgiveness. Reborn sat just to his left, the grief in his large, beetle-black eyes shadowed by the brim of his fedora.

The Varia were not familiar with the burial customs of the Japanese, but when it came time for Squalo himself to take a seat in front of the humble shrine in the Yamamoto home, the swordsman gave a sincere Catholic Prayer for the Dead on behalf of the other members, who stood nearby. As he offered the prayer, he remembered Bel coming over at one point and sitting with him, repeating the rest of the verse with him. Belphegor had always felt a sort of kinship with the man, and although he certain it was breaking custom, the prince laid his favorite blade along the altar, as a gift in the afterlife.

This was a mafia funeral. Customs meant nothing here.

Although, the ceremonial name-changing at the Buddhist shrine wsa fully covered by the Vongola family. The donations were sizable, and in the very least, Yamamoto could rest easy knowing his father would be safe from evil now, wherever he was.

It just irked Squalo that Yamamoto was able to stand there so quietly, as if _he_ were dead.

Squalo pushed himself off of the large tombstone he had been leaning against, and walked over to the younger man. If Yamamoto was aware of his presence, he gave no hint of it. The dark-haired swordsman hadn't budged. He just stood in front of the simple stone monument, a distant look in his eyes.

"You don't have to fake it anymore, you know. No one's here but me."

Yamamoto looked over his shoulder at the long-haired swordsman, a soft smile on his face.

"I figured you were still here in Namimori." He said with a half-hearted chuckle. Squalo nodded.

"I stayed because of you."

"Me?"

"Mm."

Yamamoto gave him a hollow, questioning laugh before turning back to the grave. "It happened so fast, I didn't even…it just hasn't sunk in yet, I guess. I'm still waiting for him to walk into the shop, yelling about the great fish he got down at the market." Yamamoto said, laughing quietly at the memory. For his sake, Squalo gave a rare but brief smile at the younger swordsman's fond reverie.

"Your old man was good person."

Yamamoto nodded. "Yeah, he was."

Squalo turned to him, expression as grim as the weather. "So my question for you is, why are you keeping everything bottled up like this?"

Yamamoto looked up at him curiously. "What?"

Squalo sighed in frustration. "You may think that you've got everyone fooled, but you sure as hell can't fool me, kid. It was good that you kept a brave face for everyone else's sake, but what about you?"

The dark-haired swordsman looked away, his eyebrows knitted together as he turned back to the grave.

"I don't know how I feel about anything right now. Tsuna was so depressed, even Gokudera was…I…don't know. I just didn't want them to worry so much about me. They were all there for me when it mattered, and you know, at least my dad's in a better place now…I think I'm alright, Squalo. Honest." He said with a small smile.

"Bullshit, you are." The older swordsman snapped angrily, startling an old couple that walked by, huddled under a large black umbrella.

"Squalo?" Yamamoto said in shock.

"Don't tell me that you're okay when it's obvious that you aren't. You may think that you're being strong by keeping that damn smile on your face, but you're not. You're just making everyone worry about you!" Squalo shouted loudly, but his voice was overshadowed by the heavy rains, reducing the force behind the bitter words.

At that moment, the smile on Yamamoto's face began to crack. "What do you mean, Squalo?" He asked, even though in his heart, he already understood what the older man was trying to tell him.

And he knew that Squalo knew that too.

"You know what I mean. Listen to me, you're a master swordsman now. And a swordsman remains strong for his family. But at the same time," Squalo began grimly,"There is only so long you can keep up appearances. There is always time for a swordsman to grieve, too. No one can stand in front of their father's grave in the rain for three hours, and manage to keep a smile on his face."

Squalo knelt down and made what Yamamoto recognized to be the Catholic sign of the Cross with his right hand, saying something quietly in his native Italian before standing back up, tucking his hands in the pockets of his uniform coat.

"This is our reality. The world of the mafia is a cruel one, kid. Your enemies aren't going to show you any mercy. They will come after whoever they can, and eliminate them until you've got nothing left."

Yamamoto flinched at the harsh words, looking away pointedly.

"But for what it's worth," the older man continued solemnly, placing a hand on Yamamoto's shoulder, "It doesn't mean that this world is always cold. It's different for you lot. You have a compassionate family, Yamamoto. They understand what you're going through. Your pain is _their_ pain, too. So you don't need to keep it together for their sake, because you are the one who is suffering right now. They'll understand if you aren't the same smiling dumb-ass for awhile, and they aren't going to hold it against you, just like I won't think less of you for letting go right now. You're allowed to shed tears for your family."

And with that, Squalo gave the younger man's shoulder a firm squeeze before walking towards the exit of the cemetery. To anyone else it would've seemed cruel, even heartless, to leave the dark-haired man alone after that; Squalo could hear the heart-wrenching sobs of a boy who lost his father much too soon in the distance, barely audible through the storm. Part of Squalo found it to be a bit cruel too, but he knew this was the way it had to be.

The swordsman slid into the driver's seat of the black Lexus waiting for him in the lot and closed the door. In the loud silence of the car, with the heavy rain pelting the windows, Squalo could hear the echo of Yamamoto's cries in his ears. Cobalt eyes slid shut, trying to drown them out. Squalo started the car and drove out of the lot.

It was cruel to leave him there alone, yes, but in truth, Squalo had no right to bear witness. It was not a swordsman's place to grieve in front of others. Their's was grief meant to be seen only by the deceased. Their tears and cries of anguish were meant only for the ears of the spirits in the graveyard, for the flowers on the tomb, and the Earth that entombed their loved one. It was an intimate moment. But as he drove away from Namimori, Squalo sighed bitterly to himself, not resisting the single wet tear sliding down his cheek.

He was an assassin by trade, but he was also a human being.

The others were waiting for him at the hanger for the family's private jet. No one said a word about their commander's red-rimmed eyes and damp cheeks as they boarded the plane. They, just as he did, recognized the unfairness of it all.

The only thing that brought Squalo any solace that day was the fact that he knew Yamamoto was not grieving alone in front of that grave. The sky would remain black over Namimori for a long time, for the sky was grieving with the smiling swordsman, as he was. As they all were.

* * *

><p>There's going to be a couple of more chapters focusing on VariaVongola relationships, because I don't feel like they're touched on enough. So they'll follow this same sort of format. Four normal ones, and one serious one at the end. It isn't all fun and games, you know. And yes, I also want to hug Yamamoto. As well as Squalo. Weh weh weh.

Well, read and review, and I'll try to have another chapter up in a reasonable time frame.

Bye bi~


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: After a (completely unintended, I assure you) year long hiatus, I have returned with a new chapter!

I can't really say I'm picking up where I left off, but I had some ideas and well, here they are. I do plan to start updating this fic regularly again, because honestly, I miss KHR a lot and I especially miss my precious Varia angels.

So yeah, the Vongola crew doesn't happen in this chapter, but rest assured that they will be popping up again periodically.

With that being said, read on!

The usual warnings apply.

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Writing this solely to entertain.

* * *

><p>36: It's Always the Quiet Ones<p>

_(In which Lussuria simultaneously prevents accidental arson and premeditated murder)_

* * *

><p>It wasn't often that Lussuria stumbled upon any of the other members of his squad in the kitchen, but on those rare occasions when he did, nine times out of ten it was cause for concern. He was <em>pretty<em> sure Fran wasn't trying to make explosives like a certain other member of their crew had once, but Lussuria was also pretty sure that the young illusionist didn't know how to cook anything besides pudding.

And by the bizarre assortment of ingredients spread out on the counter, he clearly wasn't making pudding.

Lussuria heard Fran singing a random song to himself as he reached for a dubious-looking bottle that was set apart from the other ingredients. The sight of him singing slightly off-key normally would've been charming, but…

Fran read over the ingredients on the bottle quietly, shoulders shimmying cutely in time with the music as he did so, before shrugging with alarming disinterest and dumping the entire bottle into the pot he had on the stove and dancing over to the refrigerator.

"Fran?" Lussuria began worriedly as he walked into the kitchen. At the sound of the familiar voice behind him, Fran turned from where he had been digging around for something on one of the shelves.

"Oh Lussu-nee-san," he said simply, "I'm glad you're here. I need your help with something."

_I'm glad too._ Lussuria thought to himself with a mental grimace. That pot was beginning to boil over. "What are you making?"

"Soup." Fran replied without the slightest sense of urgency, as if his 'soup' wasn't boiling over the edges of the pot and sizzling on the stove top. Instead, he went back to rummaging around in the fridge.

Needless to say, his lack of concern for his now burning soup set Lussuria into motion.

"Fran! Dammit, watch what you're doing! You're going to damage the stove!" Lussuria shrieked as he raced across the kitchen and turned the heat down. After a few seconds, the boiling contents of the pot settled into a rather begrudged-looking simmer. Lussuria picked up the ladle and began stirring the soup.

"Honey," Lussuria began with a sigh, "If you don't know what you're doing, I suggest leaving the cooking to someone who _does_. Namely, me. You've already burned the house down once, we don't need it happening again. (1)"

When his plea was met with silence, Lussuria looked up. Fran was staring at him over the door of the refrigerator, his face unnervingly blank, even for Fran.

"Are you making fun of me, Lussu-nee-san?" The illusionist asked after a moment, his tone icy and unreadable. Lussuria shivered.

_He's been spending way too much time with Mammon._ He thought to himself.

"No, of course not, I'm just sayi-"

"-Because that was a life or death situation, you know. I acted purely on instinct." Fran interjected, still staring at Lussuria as if he was daring him to say otherwise. Which Lussuria was.

"Fran, it was just a spider." Lussuria said, rolling his eyes at the younger man before turning back to the soup.

A few minutes of tense quiet passed between the two after that; Lussuria calmly stirring the quickly coagulating soup, and Fran staring at him in what appeared to be stunned silence.

"It wasn't _just_ a spider, you douchebag." Lussuria heard Fran mutter under his breath before the teen ducked back into the fridge to continue looking for…whatever it was that he was looking for.

"I heard that~!" Lussuria chirped.

Fran's head immediately poked over the door of the fridge again. "Do we have any banana extract, banana juice, or like, _actual_ bananas?" He asked suddenly, pointedly changing the subject.

Mentally chalking up his victory in their little argument, Lussuria looked up with a faint smirk.

"Why? Isn't this supposed to be soup?"

To the untrained eye, there was no discernible difference between Fran's moods and facial expressions. But after living with him for a while, Fran became quite an easy person to read. The changes were very subtle, but not unnoticeable. Fran's lip twitched; a slight curl at the corner of his mouth told Lussuria that their resident mist guardian was feeling a _little_ testy today.

"Fran," Lussuria began, "Is that a smirk I see? Hmm…makes me think that our little illusionist is up to no goooood~"

Fran finally closed the refrigerator door and walked over.

"Not at all, Lussu-nee-san," Fran said as he gingerly plucked the ladle from Lussuria's hand, "And who says bananas can't be an ingredient in soup, hmm? Is there some rule written in some obscure cookbook that says if I put fruit in soup I'll go to Hell or something?"

Lussuria leaned against the counter, settling his chin in the palm of his hand. "There's no rule against it at all. It's just that," Lussuria leaned closer, "You _are_ aware that Bel is deathly allergic to bananas, aren't you?"

Fran's expression didn't falter. He did however, start stirring the soup a little faster than before.

"Really? I wasn't aware of that." He intoned.

Lussuria shifted a fraction closer. "That soup isn't for Bel, is it Fran?"

Fran's gaze shifted from the pot to the man next to him for a brief moment, letting out a strangled noise of what sounded like, to Lussuria at least, sadistic amusement.

A beat passed.

"So do we have any or not?" Fran asked again as he turned back to his pot.

Lussuria sighed loudly. "What did he do to you _this_ time?"

At that, the semi-amused expression on Fran's face dimmed back into its usual unreadable expression.

"I don't really want to talk about it. But trust me, he deserves this."

Lussuria let out another sigh, though this time it was one of mild relief. "Well, I won't pry for details, but fortunately for Bel, we don't have any banana products here in the house."

Fran's eyebrow twitched. "Yeah, lucky him." He muttered.

"But Fran…uh, what was that stuff you just dumped in before I came in?"

Despite his now obvious anger, Fran's mouth bowed into a small, impish grin.

_Oh boy, this isn't going to end well for Bel._ Lussuria thought. Fran smiling was like Xanxus smiling: virtually unheard of, and when it did happen, it was usually at someone else's expense and the aftermath was not pretty.

"Its horse laxative."

Lussuria wisely left the kitchen after that.

* * *

><p>"Oi, Frog, this soup tastes a little funny."<p>

"There wasn't any salt in the kitchen. Sorry, sempai."

* * *

><p>37: Summer Colds<p>

_(In which Xanxus decides that his subordinates have a deathwish)_

* * *

><p>His face felt hot. And for once, it wasn't from rage.<p>

Actually, he had been in a fairly alright mood that morning. 'Fairly alright' being completely relative, of course; he only shot one messenger today, and even more magnanimously, he only shot him in the leg instead of the head or stomach.

But that had been that morning.

It was now well into the late afternoon, and Xanxus felt like his head was going to split open. Allergies had never been an issue for him, but…

He _did_ recall Squalo bitching about how high the pollen count was in their part of the country this year. He also remembered the swordsman barking at a few underlings to go into town and stock up their emergency supply of benadryl. For some reason he requested the non-drowsy ones in a hushed tone; but Xanxus was sure that that reason was that Belphegor liked to pop them like skittles and had consequently spent the entirety of the previous summer passed out in bed, on the couch, and in various other locations around the headquarters, muttering questionable things in his sleep. (Things that of course were recorded by Fran and stashed away to be used later as blackmail.)

At the present moment, Xanxus wanted nothing more than one of those pills, the _drowsy_ ones, because he wanted to lay down and sleep until the end of the week. But he would've rather castrated himself with his bare hand than look weak in front of his men.

And so, it was five in the afternoon, his head was pulsing, and the conference room was stuffy as hell.

And, even more annoying, all of his subordinates were staring at him as if he were liable to explode any second. He supposed he must've looked as bad as he felt.

"Boss, you look like shit."

Squalo never was one to beat around the bush.

"Yeah, he's right."

"Shut up."

"Ew, are you sick or something?"

"Shut _up_."

"Oh, oh~! Boss is feeling under the weather? ~ Do you want me to get you something?"

"SHUT UP."

Xanxus released the safety on one of his pistols. He supposed he'd been generous enough today. Or perhaps he just hadn't shot enough underlings.

"BOSS!"

"Fucking! Be goddamn quiet already!" He snapped, unloading a barrage of bullets on his squad. It was loud and made his head hurt worse, but it still lightened his mood a little to see them all scramble to get out of the way. They could sure move when it mattered.

"My-my hair!" Lussuria wailed suddenly. The man was cradling his green fringe, now shortened by at least an inch, mumbling incoherently before collapsing in a heap onto the table.

Ignoring his sun guardian, Xanxus shoved his gun back into its proper holster. "I'm going back to fucking bed. If anyone comes near my side of the house, I'll shoot your goddamn shit off."

The others nodded rapidly before scurrying out of the room, and probably the mansion. But not before Levi came back to scoop up Lussuria's unconscious body, bowing deeply before high-tailing it out of the room.

Squalo, however, remained behind, an annoyingly amused look on his face.

"What?" Xanxus grunted as he shifted to stand. Squalo didn't say anything. The swordsman simply gave him a fairly good-natured shrug before fishing a small, silver package out of his pocket.

"Here. These are the ones that make you sleep. Go the fuck to bed before you kill one of us."

"Good." Xanxus muttered as he snatched the pills out of Squalo's open palm.

"And do yourself a favor, take them with _water_. Not motherfucking rum. The hospital's two hours away."

Xanxus glared at him. "I wasn't going to do that." He said, looking insulted that Squalo felt he needed to be told this.

Nonetheless, Squalo gave him a pointed look. "Water, Xanxus. You hear me?" He repeated before walking out after the others.

Xanxus grumbled as he made his way to his room.

"Tch, retard. I don't even have any fucking rum."

* * *

><p>38: Mirror, Mirror<p>

_(In which Mammon arbitrarily tests out a developing theory)_

* * *

><p>Mammon wiped the condensation from the mirror in one swift motion.<p>

He had long become accustomed to seeing his short stature and chubby cheeks in the tiny erasure amidst the condensation, but tonight was one of those nights where the sight of his infant form was enough to make him want to shatter the mirror.

And he would have, if he had had the strength to do it in his tiny fists. But he didn't, and it irritated him.

Mammon ran a hand over the smooth skin of his cheek, a tiny finger tracing the indigo triangle tattooed upon it. He soon brought his other hand to join the first.

"…Viper…" Mammon uttered. He leaned over and exhaled along the mirror, over his reflection. "A relic of the past." He said with a bitter laugh. This was him now. No matter how he wished otherwise, he was there. This form was real; real and so frustratingly tangible.

Mammon's eyes slid shut as one hand reached for the warm glass of the mirror.

He imagined his reflection; the one of his _former_ self, and not the infant he was forced to be.

He was standing there, his arms supporting him as he stood staring at himself in front of the mirror. Not on the counter, clambering to one side to avoid sliding into the sink, but with his feet placed solidly on the tiled floor. His hair was damp against his neck and hanging in his eyes.

Mammon clenched his eyes tighter.

_Concentrate_.

The steam in the room wrapped around his slender frame, condensing into small droplets on his skin and sliding down the expanse of his chest and torso.

Mammon smiled slightly. The sensation made the tattoos that covered his body tingle with energy.

He supposed that was a good sign.

The mist guardian forced himself to concentrate harder.

_Push all thoughts of you as an infant from your mind. You are Viper. You have only ever existed as Viper._

"Maaaammoooon! Where are you?"

Mammon's eyes snapped open.

"Mammon!" He heard Belphegor calling for him, "Get out of the bathroom! Our show's about to start, stupid!"

The arcobaleno sighed, his head lolling forward tiredly against the glass. The steam had long faded, leaving only the reflection he had come to know and loathe.

Mammon had his bathrobe a quarter of the way on when the bathroom door flew open wildly. Before he had a chance to react, Belphegor was already laughing hysterically at his infantile nudity; pinching a tiny butt-cheek teasingly before pushing the robe all the way on and scooping him up like an air-headed teenaged babysitter and carting him off to his own bedroom.

* * *

><p>"Bel?" Mammon began during the commercials.<p>

"What?" Belphegor replied, still digging around in the box of lucky charms he had snagged off the top of the fridge for a marshmallow.

"Do you want to know what I look like?"

At that, Belphegor looked down at the little arcobaleno with a lopsided smile. "But I know what you like. You're sitting next to me right now, aren't you?"

"Yes, that's true, but-"

"The show's back on! Shh!" And with that the conversation abruptly ended. Mammon settled back into one of the numerous pillows that littered the prince's bed.

It would have been a moot point anyway.

Bel just wouldn't understand.

* * *

><p>1) Reference to Eight-legged Antichrist. I'm sure most of you got that reference though lol<p>

I've got some major illusionist head-canons in the works, so expect some more Mammon-centric shorts in the near future. As usual, anything I write concerning Mammon/Viper follows the Crawl with the Heretics head-canon (the original head-canon for that fic belongs to Lulu-Ichigo).

Reviews and comments are welcome, so until next time!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Yes hi hello good evening all

Here's the next chapter for your reading pleasure! I'm trying (keyword: _trying)_ to trim down the length of these shorts back to what they were when I first started writing this fic. I miss writing the little blurbs lol

There's only one this time because I randomly got this idea today and needed to write it immediately before I forgot it.

Also yeah, the unlikely brotp that is Squalo and Lussuria is becoming my thing. I really love writing them.

Oh and two things. One, I reeeeeeeeeally love you guys. I wasn't expecting such a warm welcome back, and it seriously made me squeal to see all of those pleasant reviews. To MrsRegulusBlack123, the response to her has been overwhelmingly positive thus far, so Squalo's mommy will absofrickinlutely make another appearance! As to when, I have no idea, but it will happen!

Warnings: Usual B.S.

Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. This was written solely to entertain.

* * *

><p>39: Soap Operas<p>

_(In which Squalo learns the simple joy of watching daytime television)_

* * *

><p><em>"But Pietro, you mustn't go! What will I do without you?"<em>

_"Oh, oh! Angelina! Mi amor, mi corazon! I am terrified of what lies ahead, but regardless, I must put my past behind me! I'm going to face my father once and for all. He will no longer stand in the way…"_ the dashing actor on the screen pulled his love snug against him, cradling her heavily made up face in a gloved hand,_ "… of our eternal love."_

"How romantic~!" Lussuria sighed dreamily into the large goose-feather pillow he had been practically crushing against him since the episode of his current favorite soap opera, _Sangre, Sudor, y Pasión,_ had begun. His heavy sighing quickly turned into giddy flailing and blushing when the scene panned over to a dimly lit room, a bedroom, of course. The enamored couple were rolling around under the sheets, making love in such a frenzy that Lussuria was partly amazed the racy content was even airing on daytime television. Not that he was necessarily complaining. Nothing made his day like a red-hot sex scene, especially one involving the actor he currently had a massive crush on.

"God he has such a glorious ass..." Lussuria said lecherously, chewing on the corner of his pillow and squealing loudly.

"He has a sheet over his ass you dumb fag, how can you tell?" A sharp, familiar voice said from the doorway of his room. Lussuria frowned and turned to the unwelcome visitor.

"That's because unlike you, I care about subtlety. You can see the outline of that masterpiece of a posterior through the sheets. It doesn't have to be in your face to be sexy, like that trashy porn you all like so much."

Squalo rolled his eyes. "I don't give a shit about another man's ass regardless. And for that matter, don't lump me in with everyone else. Porn does fuck-all for me. What's the goddamn point in watching someone else fucking when I can just go pick up a bitch or two and get laid myself?"

Lussuria gave his superior a pitiful look. "Well, that's because you have zero imagination, Squalo. You're such a simpleton."

"Vooooiiii!"

Lussuria quickly waved a hand, dismissing the topic altogether as he stood up from his bed. "Anyway, what are you doing here? You're interrupting my TV time."

"Nothing, I was just walking by and I heard your dumbass comment, that's all." Squalo said, shrugging.

"And why's his name Pietro anyway? I thought this was a Spanish soap. Shit doesn't make any sense."

Squalo walked further into the room. "And for that matter," He began, pointing at the TV screen, where the couple was still going at it like rabbits, "How the fuck is this even allowed to be on TV? It's practically soft-core porn."

Lussuria scoffed. "Wh-what? No it isn't!" It really was, and he knew it. But he just didn't want to give Squalo the satisfaction of knowing that Lussuria actually agreed with him on something. Though at that moment, Squalo was much more interested in what was happening on the television. His head tilted to the side thoughtfully and after a few seconds, his semi-curious glare turned into a look of mild appreciation.

"The bitch is pretty hot though."He said.

"Her name isn't 'bitch', it's Angelina."

Squalo snorted. "Who gives a shit."

"I do. She isn't just a pretty face, you know. Angelina is actually one of the most complex characters in the series."

Squalo looked away from the TV screen. "Is that right?" He said, looking as unconvinced as he sounded.

"She is." Lussuria nodded. "She has a lot of secrets that Pietro doesn't know just yet, and though he is certain something might be amiss, he loves her and protects her."

"So he knows she's fucking around on him, but he still blindly loves the bitch?" Squalo's lips pursed in annoyance. "What a goddamn moron."

Lussuria slapped his forehead. "No, no, no! That's not it at all! It's _because_ she loves him that she has to keep certain things from him. He is naïve almost to a fault, so for years, she has been skillfully manipulating him and everyone around her to keep these things from reaching him."

Lussuria cradled his face dreamily. "She is a wicked woman, but only became that way to protect her love~."

Squalo blanched. "What's the big fuckin' secret? Did she screw his dad or something?"

The room suddenly because noticeably silent. After a moment, a guilty smile appeared on Lussuria's face. "Twice."

Squalo's eyes widened slightly. "Shit, really?"

Lussuria nodded, still smiling that knowing smile. "Mmhmm. And his _mom_ too."

Squalo eyes widened even more. He sat down on the edge in Lussuria's bed, nearly slack-jawed. "What the hell kind of show is this..." Lussuria heard him say under his breath.

Lussuria giggled pervertedly as he plopped down next to Squalo and turned the volume down. "A reeeeeally good one, Squ. Trust me, you will get _addicted_. You see, she did what she did strictly out of necessity. Pietro's father is a powerful man, and so..."

* * *

><p>One week later<p>

* * *

><p>Lussuria nestled himself against one of the thick cushions of the sofa, remote control in one hand, a bowl of homemade lobster bisque in the other. Just as he turned the TV on, his cell phone, which was sitting on the coffee table, began vibrating. Lussuria set down his bowl and picked the phone up. It was Squalo.<p>

The swordsman had been out of town for the past four days, on assignment. Although Lussuria already knew what Squalo wanted, he flipped the phone open anyway.

"Yeeees~?" He chimed.

_**"Voii, you're recording the episodes for me right?"**_

"Yes, Squ, I have diligently taped every episode this week for you, pinky swear."

_**"Oi, don't get the wrong idea, asswipe. I just wanna know what happens to Angelina after Pietro loses the fucking duel with his dad. That's all."**_

"Yep, no problem. I'm taping it now~."

He heard Squalo muttering begrudgingly before hanging up.

Lussuria laughed. "Why can't he just admit that he likes the show?" He asked out loud as he switched the volume up. "He actually bothered to remember all the characters' names. If that isn't proof enough, I don't know what is."

* * *

><p>FYI: the name of the soap opera means <em>Blood, Sweat, and Passion<em>.

Next chapter is in the works, so be on the look out for it!

-S*B


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I promise I'm not going to start posting solo chapters. The next chapter will be back to normal, but this one was long enough to post alone, I think, so I left it that way.

Side note: This one will make more sense if you read chapter four first or immediately afterwards. I would also recommend reading _Shifting the Blame_, which is a squabel prompt I wrote a while ago, which you can find on my tumblr in the 'Prompts and Memes' section of my blog. It's meant to go along with this headcanon I've been developing for Bel for a while now. So yeah. Do the thing.

Warnings: Blood, mentions of death, language (duh),me actually writing the Varia in canon...I guess.

Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. This fic was written solely to entertain.

* * *

><p>40: Elizabeth Bathory<p>

_(In which Levi discovers the identity of the most prolific serial killer in Italy)_

* * *

><p>For some inexplicable reason, a simple glass of water tasted a thousand times better at four in the morning. Levi gulped half the glass down greedily before sighing tiredly. His throat was dry and sore; he was almost one hundred percent sure that a bad case of strep throat was on the horizon for him.<p>

Levi frowned deeply. As soon as he got better, he would be sure to murder the subordinate that had the nerve to give it to him in cold blood. But for now, the lightning guardian simply walked towards the stairs that led back to his room, bare feet padding softly on the tiled floors as he downed the rest of his glass.

There was an odd glint of light further down the hall all of a sudden; faint, but it did not go unnoticed by Levi's sharp sight. His eyes narrowed in focus, trying to make out whatever it was amidst the darkness and the pale moonlight that poured in from the large windows of the mansion. As he walked further into the darkness of the hallway, another shimmer of light flashed briefly before disappearing.

Though this time, the light was accompanied by soft, uneven footsteps and the sound of nails being dragged along the walls.

Levi nearly slapped himself for being so on edge. There was only one person he knew who had such a creepy way of making an entrance.

"Bel, what the fuck are you doing up so late?"

Of course, he hadn't really been expecting a response from his younger comrade, so Levi was genuinely unnerved when he got one.

"I was out." Came the blithe, yet detached answer. Belphegor's smaller form came into view a moment later as he passed another of the large windows, the moonlight glinting off of the lopsided crown sitting atop his head in a way that Levi found positively sinister.

"Where were you?" He asked curiously, though, he wasn't so much curious as he was legitimately concerned. Belphegor sounded strange; strange for _Bel_, that was. His usually teasing, whimsical tone was instead both eerie and euphoric, as if he were speaking in a trance. Levi briefly wondered if perhaps the younger man was sleepwalking. Even though Belphegor was normally light on his feet, his steps still held a certain degree of confidence. But at this moment, they were silent and staggering. Almost like a drunk.

"What does it matter?"

Belphegor was a few feet away from him then, but it was enough. Levi's nose wrinkled at the overwhelming stench of blood and bodily fluids coming from his wild comrade. He backed away in disgust, throwing an arm over his face to keep out the putrid smell.

"What the hell happened to you? You smell like blood." Levi grunted as he fumbled along the wall, feeling for a light switch.

"Please don't turn the light on." He heard Belphegor ask quietly.

"Fuck off." He muttered, finally finding the switch and flicking the light on. From behind him, he heard Belphegor curse softly. Levi looked over his shoulder. And froze.

"…Bel…the hell did you do to yourself?"

With the hallway properly lit, it was easy enough to see what had brought about the distinct sound of euphoria in the prince's voice. He was literally soaked in blood. His flaxen hair was matted and caked with red, his bangs plastered over his eyes and the tops of his cheeks. His shirt was so covered that the normal black and purple striped pattern appeared only in remote splotches. His jeans and boots faired no better.

To Levi, it looked like he'd practically gone swimming in it. But what drew Levi's immediate attention was Belphegor's bloodied grin, as well as the long, deep gashes that covered his face and neck. With a tired, satisfied moan, Belphegor brought his hands up and pushed his hair out of his face, unintentionally wiping some blood off of his temples as he did so. His eyes were half-lidded, but pleased.

"What happened?" Levi asked again, this time more urgently as he dared to step closer. Belphegor laughed. It was far different from his usual giggle, however. That laugh got on Levi's nerves. This one made him feel cold.

"I had…a moment of weakness." Belphegor panted softly, one of his hands roaming down from his hair to the scratches on his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as he deftly traced over each one with a fingertip, sighing in what Levi took to be a perverse recollection of whatever had transpired earlier that evening.

"Bel. You weren't on assignment."

The prince looked up to him, inhaling and exhaling sharply before answering. "Never said I was."

"So why? I don't understand. Unless…"

Levi suddenly recalled a brief news broadcast he had seen on TV with Squalo a few weeks prior. One about grisly and as of yet unsolved murders in a small town nearby.

"All of those murders in Salerno…Bel…are you-"

At that, the prince's hands fell limp at his sides. "Like I said," He said with a dull smile, "I had a moment of weakness."

He brushed past Levi and made his way to the light switch. "You have to understand, I've been trying so hard to stop. But I've been stressed out pretty bad lately. And I just really,-" The prince paused briefly to cover the switch with his hand, "-_really_ needed to get it out of my system."

Belphegor dragged his hand down over the switch, turning it off tiredly. "I told you not to turn the light on. My head hurts." He muttered as he turned back to continue down the hallway, towards his own room, but made no move to actually leave. The hallway was dark once again, with only the light from the moon illuminating the two of them. Even in the darkness, Levi could see the red trail on the wall from Belphegor's hand and fingers, as well as the blood dripping from his chin, bangs, and sleeves, and even pooling at the prince's feet when he stood still for too long.

Feeling that Levi was still watching him warily, Belphegor gave him his usual grin. "But I guess I indulged myself a little too much this time."

"You know Boss is going to find out."

Belphegor snorted. "Really? What, are _you_ going to tell him?" He said, his tone mocking and incredulous.

Levi bristled. "He has to know! It's my duty to inform him and-"

Belphegor rolled his eyes. "And then what? Boss will kill me, _the_ _Ace_ of this stupid squad, and then you guys will be down a man. And for what? Because you think he'll suddenly see you as more than fuck up?"

Belphegor gave a cruel laugh. "That's a good one, Levi. Fat fucking chance of that happening."

Levi shook his head. "Even if you're right about that, it doesn't matter. Because whether I tell him or not, he's going to find out. I mean look at you," At that, Belphegor looked down at himself for what appeared to be the first time that night, casually admiring the blood drying into his shirt, "You're covered head to toe in blood, and leaving a trail everywhere. Those murders have been all over the news lately. You seriously think he won't figure it out? Maybe not now, but sooner or later, you're going to screw up. And when you do, boss will kill you. You know the rule. No civilians."

"I'm not as much of an animal as you think. I haven't fucked up yet."

"But you will. Goddamn Bel, how many bodies are you up to now? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"And why the hell is it your problem? I assumed you'd be out of your fucking mind with joy to have me out of the way. One less obstacle for you to be boss's right hand man, right?"

"It's not that. But just think of the trouble boss will have on his hands when the whole family finds out that one of our own is a fucking serial killer! The Salerno Slasher, Bel, are you fucking for real?!"

"Don't ever call me that." Belphegor seethed, voice just barely above a whisper. Levi took a cautious step back when he noticed that the younger man's arm and voice were trembling. "I ...**hate**... that nickname." Belphegor said with shaky breath, as if he was trying to calm himself down.

"Sometimes," the prince began, though he was no longer smiling, "I think of finding the person who came up with that, and cutting their fucking head off. It's so stupid."

The two stood in tense silence for a few minutes before Belphegor sucked his teeth in annoyance and walked away. Now alone in the hallway, Levi ran a shaky hand through his hair and walked back to his own room. Before closing the door, he considered going back down to the kitchen for another glass of water.

His throat was dry all over again, and it wasn't like he was going to be getting any sleep that night, anyway.

* * *

><p><em>"-And the body count is now up to twenty, according to authorities, and these crimes are steadily escalating in their frequency, as well as their brutality. People of Salerno are now being put under a strict curfew, and are being urged to lock their doors and windows-"<em>

Levi immediately changed the channel.

"I was watching that." Mammon said around the rim of his cup. "Put it back on. Of course," the cup was placed back down in the coffee table, "I'd be willing to let you watch whatever you want, for a nominal fee."

Levi sighed and stood, but not before slapping a few notes down on the table in front of the infant. Mammon made a noise as if he was greatly pleased by the unexpected gesture and immediately shot out an illusory tentacle to scoop the money off the table.

Levi collected his empty mug, as well as Mammon's, and made for the kitchen. There, he found the one person he truly wished to avoid.

Belphegor was sitting alone at the marble island, a bowl of cereal sitting half-eaten in front of him. Physically, he looked awful. His hair was clean and hanging over his eyes as usual, but a large gauze pad was neatly applied to his cheek, as well as his neck. Lussuria's handy work, no doubt. In the morning light, Levi also noticed the prominent split in the prince's bottom lip. Despite his less than pristine appearance, Levi noticed with a mixture of abhorrence and surprising calm, that the prince's aura was undoubtedly much more serene than it had been the past few months. Belphegor had a small, -Levi almost dared to say- angelic smile on his face.

Belphegor looked up from his bowl. "Mornin'."

Levi waved. "You cleaned up pretty well. The hallway was spotless."

Belphegor smirked. "Duh. This isn't my first rodeo, stupid-ass."

Before Levi could answer, another presence emerged from the opposite side of the kitchen. Xanxus walked in, shirtless and still in his night pants, looking every bit the morning-hater he was. At the sight of their boss, the two assassins froze. Levi moreso than his younger comrade.

"Hey boss." Belphegor began casually after a moment, sliding back into his easy morning banter. Xanxus grunted something in response, but levi wasn't quite sure what.

With a yawn, the prince stood up from the island and dumped his plate in the sink. "I'll be out all day today." He said as he made to excuse himself.

"Bel."

At the low, dangerous baritone, they both froze once again. Xanxus was watching Belphegor, a suspicious glint in those red eyes.

"What the fuck happened to you." It wasn't a question.

Belphegor shrugged. "I've been trying to perfect a new technique." Belphegor paused to brush the thick gauze on his face. "As you can see, I have a long way to go before it's ready."

Xanxus regarded him for a moment before nodding and turning back to filling his coffee mug. "Fine." He muttered.

Belphegor simply smiled at his boss's back before turning to leave the kitchen. As he brushed past Levi, the prince's smile faded, and under those bangs, Levi could feel a penetrating glare, willing him into submission.

'If you say anything, I'll kill you.' Belphegor mouthed before flashing one of his infamously toothy smiles and disappearing upstairs.

Just like that, the image of the prince's angelic calm was gone, quickly replaced with the image of him staggering down the dark hallway in drunken ecstasy, covered in the blood of the family he had just massacred, simply because he felt like it.

* * *

><p>Read n' Review guys!<p> 


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Hi all, long time no see! It's been a pretty slow, overcast weekend, so I got some free time to work on fanfiction! Yay.

So I'm debating on which number I should end this story. I was thinking of fifty originally, but now that I'm almost there, I feel like it's too soon. I still have tons of ideas and headcanons that I have planned and yeah. So I'm thinking I'll take it to one hundred. Frankly, I'm not ready to end this story yet, as it is the one that gets me back in the writing mood, no matter how much of a slump I'm in, or how long.

So with that being said, read on!

Warnings: The usual BS, you know.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

* * *

><p>41: Escargot<p>

_(In which boredom leads to pointless interrogations and unfinished crossword puzzles)_

* * *

><p>Belphegor muted the television suddenly, sitting up with unusual determination for that time of day.<p>

"Hey Fran, you're French, right?"

Fran glanced up from his crossword momentarily. "That _is_ where you found me, isn't it?" He replied coolly before returning to his puzzle. He was finally in the 'Difficult' section, but so far, it didn't seem to be any more challenging than the other sections he'd completed previously.

Belphegor frowned, unimpressed with the younger assassin's passive sarcasm. He briefly entertained the idea of stabbing him in the arm to repay him for his undue insolence, but immediately decided it would be a waste of time, since Fran was for the most part desensitized to Bel's tantrums and attacks, and more importantly, he had just cleaned all of his knives. Instead, he heaved himself to his feet and walked over to the table where Fran was sitting.

"Can I ask you something?"

Fran's pencil stopped moving. "You've already asked me two things, fake prince. Leave me alone and let me finish this puzzle."

Purely out of spite, Belphegor planted himself in the seat directly next to Fran's and scooted the chair closer and closer until their knees bumped together. Belphegor settled his cheek elegantly in the palm of his hand and simply sat there, staring at his unwitting sidekick with a soft but uncomfortable smile, waiting patiently until _Fran's_ patience –which was not as infinite as he often led people to believe- ran out and the illusionist was forced to acknowledge him.

After a few minutes, Belphegor's fortitude began to crack. The prince in turn whittled away at Fran's by whistling idly and piveting his legs on the soles of his shoes, causing his knees to repeatedly knock into Fran's. It was after a particularly direct and imposing collision, which caused Fran to accidentally drag his pencil across his book, that he finally set his puzzle and pencil aside.

"Okay, I'll bite. What is your question, fallen prince- sempai?"

Belphegor smiled wider. "Have you ever eaten snails?"

Fran blinked once. Twice. "You mean _escargot_?" He muttered, already regretting giving in to his sempai's childishness.

"Yeah, that. Have you ever eaten it?"

Fran just stared at him.

"You have, haven't you?"

"…I…don't frankly understand why this matters… but yes, I have."

Belphegor pulled a face. "Ugh really?! Frogface, that's fuckin' nasty!"

Fran picked his pencil back up. "Oh come on, my grandma made it once when I was little. She told me it was chicken, so… I ate some."

Belphegor found a way to somehow shift even closer. "Eww, what was it like?"

Fran shirked away slightly. "Why is this so important to you? I want to finish this puzzle."

"It's something I've always wanted to know."

"You mean what snail tastes like? Or if I've personally eaten snail?"

"Both. The first moreso than the second. The second is an afterthought."

"Uh, well, there's not much to tell. I spit it out because it felt weird. I haven't tried it since. " Fran said with a shrug. "Besides," Fran continued suddenly as he filled another word in on the puzzle, "I'm not the best person to ask about food, seeing as how I'm really picky about what I eat."

Belphegor nodded thoughtfully for a moment before immediately coming to another realization. "Come to think of it, I've never actually heard you _speak_ French, either."

"I assure you that I can."

"But I wanna hear it."

"I didn't realize I needed to prove my 'Frenchness' to you. Will it put you at ease if I start laughing like the chef from the Little Mermaid?" Fran quipped, which immediately earned him a solid punch in the frog hat.

"I just wanna hear what you sound like talking in French, that's all!"

"Bonjour! Oui, Oui! Sacre bleu! Menage a trois! Madamoiselle! Oui!" Fran listed with a surprising amount of enthusiasm, though not even bothering to smother the sarcasm. "See, fluent French. Nobody in France speaks French as good as me. I can even sing the French verses in Lady Marmalade."

Belphegor growled. "No, you fuckass! Speak actual words!"

Fran's face soured slightly. "Those _are_ actual words. I didn't make them up."

"You know what I mean! Say an actual, cohesive sentence."

Fran sighed. "Fine. Tu ressembles à un cheval quand vous souriez. Voir? Je peux vous insulter en français aussi bien que je peux en italien."

Belphegor stared at the illusionist for several quiet seconds before abruptly grabbing Fran's pencil out of his hand and stomping off. Fran sighed in irritation. He had one word left to fill in and no pencil, so the illusionist settled back in his chair and muttered every swear word he knew in French.

* * *

><p>42: Laundry Day<p>

_(In which Lussuria finds humanity and peace of mind, among other things, in mundane chores)_

* * *

><p>Balancing one laundry basket is hard enough. Balancing his one plus six more was certainly a test of Lussuria's juggling skills. Luckily for him, he'd had over a decade to perfect his balancing act, so Sunday morning, better known as the Varia's Laundry Day, usually breezed by. It was so easy due in large part to the fact that he started fairly early in the morning, being that he was the only actual 'morning' person in the squad.<p>

It was now currently nine in the morning, and Lussuria had his laundry room prepped and ready to wash and stitch up some man clothes.

"Stop one: Mammon." Lussuria said to himself, en route to the first of his six stops. Mammon's room was the farthest away from the laundry room, so it was a good idea to start from there and work his way to the other end of the house. Out of everyone, Mammon was possibly his favorite person in terms of cleanliness. Mammon was fiercely private and was also a huge neat freak, which, as far as Lussuria was concerned, was a match made in heaven. As expected, when he arrived in front of Mammon's door, a small, black basket filled nearly to the top with equally dark clothes sat waiting neatly to the left of the door.

Lussuria smiled and picked the basket up, tossing it atop his own. Simple. Now one down, five to go.

Next was Levi.

Levi was not _horribly_ unclean, Lussuria thought with something akin to a grimace spreading across his face as he arrived at Levi's room door and rapped lightly on the door before letting himself in. Levi just had this awful habit of putting his socks on top of everything else, and well, to be honest…his feet smelled a little bad. It was more annoying than anything else, especially since Lussuria reminded him time and time again to put his socks and boxers towards the bottom of the basket so he would not have to be subjected to that. It was their weekly struggle, and so far, Levi did a spectacular job of forgetting to do exactly that.

Lussuria soon came to the conclusion that Levi simply did it to spite him.

Not that it mattered all that much in the end, because if it was a game of spite, Lussuria would win. He could be just as catty if the situation called for it, and it was always a riot to hear Levi complaining about his jackets shrinking down a size. The fact that Levi still hadn't caught on to that, even after all of these years, made it all the better.

After Levi came Squalo.

For the most part, the swordsman tended to have his 'shit' together (his words, of course) next to his bedroom door, but sometimes he forgot. Well, not so much that he forgot so much as that he didn't really care enough.

Today was one of Squalo's 'I forgot/didn't give a fuck' days. Though in his defense, he had gotten back from assignment at some obscene hour that very morning and basically stripped off his bloodied uniform plus everything underneath and fell into bed and had not moved since.

Lussuria didn't mind that part at all, since a) Squalo slept on his stomach, b) slept like a log, c) had _very_ thin white sheets, and d) had a ridiculously nice ass. A rather scandalous combination, but Lussuria decided it would be best if Squalo remained unaware of that fact. For Lussuria, it was an uber-secret guilty pleasure of his to ogle his commander's ass when Squalo wasn't looking, or awake, for that matter. Right on cue, the swordsman shifted roughly in his sleep, switching the position of his legs and giving Lussuria a generous view of his booty in the process. After a moment, he settled down with a lengthy sigh into his pillow, and as Lussuria scooped his clothes up off the floor and tossed them into his basket, he lamented the unfortunate fact that Squalo was a bit of a homophobe. He was quite a lovely sight when he was silent and not wearing clothes.

"Oh Squalo, the things I would do to you and that glorious tush if you weren't straight to a fault." Lussuria sighed before continuing on his quest across the mansion.

Speaking of glorious tushies and nethers in general, up next was Xanxus.

Whereas Squalo was a heavy sleeper because he was genuinely exhausted, Xanxus was a heavy sleeper because he was the boss and thus entitled to sleep twelve hours a day if he felt like it. Plus, he had been in a fairly awful mood the night before, and had consequently emptied a bottle of tequila. So all in all, it was safe to say that he'd be pushing the half-day mark.

"No wonder it's been so quiet around the house today." Lussuria said aloud as he let himself into the room, and promptly sucked his teeth in annoyance.

Another fun fact: Lussuria once walked in on Xanxus when he was getting out of the shower. How the Fates orchestrated such a magical occurrence was beyond him, but Lussuria made sure to burn those five seconds into his mind forever, even at the expense of several inches of his fringe.

Not to be crude, but Xanxus was an impressive man, on many, _many_ levels.

Even better, their esteemed leader tended to sleep on his back, so Lussuria often got an eyeful of that familiar (though not nearly as familiar as he'd like) bulge in the sheets, and would have to quickly grab Xanxus' dirty clothes and bolt before he got himself in trouble.

Thin sheets in the summer. What a blessing. Oh, if only his commanding officers knew what he got up to when they were asleep.

But today, it was for not.

Apparently, for all of his rage and fire and whatnot, even evil assassin commanders got cold. Xanxus had his duvet pulled up over his entire body, obscuring everything that Lussuria had been excited to peep at from view.

Oh well, Lussuria thought. He could always just go stare at Squalo's butt some more. It was certainly worth the trip back over. But he had laundry to do, so it would have to wait for later.

With four baskets now in tow, Lussuria made his way to the east side of the house. With a great sigh, he set the now quite heavy load down. He'd need his arms free to gather up the oncoming trainwrecks that were the laundry loads of the Varia's two youngest charges (technically speaking).

"Fran, honey, can I have your laundry?" Lussuria asked as he entered the dark room. All he got in response was an unintelligible murmur from somewhere in the darkness.

Sometimes, it was harder to decide who was messier, but to their credit, at least their clothes didn't smell. Fran, for starters, didn't quite grasp the concept of a laundry basket, and instead opted to let his clothes pile up on his bed. And clearly, the thought of simply relocating said pile must have been an absurd one in the younger illusionist's mind, because Lussuria soon found him buried under the mountain of laundry, half-asleep.

"Whatimes'it?" Fran mumbled from underneath a blue knit sweater, one he had worn for about ten minutes before he decided he didn't want to wear it anymore and tossed it atop the cesspool of clothes.

"It is nine-seventeen."

Fran groaned and rolled over, all the while mumbling sleepy nonsense. Lussuria caught a few random words, 'ungodly' and 'sunlight' being a couple. He also thought he heard Fran say something about bursting into flames, and smiled.

How quaint.

"Can I have your laundry?"

A few more seconds of cranky muttering and the teen sat up in bed, looking remarkably like one of the undead. He gave Lussuria a bleary, glassy-eyed stare before slumping his entire body over the laundry pile and proceeded to shove it onto the floor. Fran then gave Lussuria a semi-lucid thumbs up before collapsing backwards back into dreamland.

Lussuria rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Kids.

After a few minutes, the entire load was collected and neatly settled outside of Fran's bedroom door. That only left Belphegor. Lussuria sighed and hoped that the prince didn't have his underwear hanging off light fixtures or anything again.

A short five-second trip down the hall and he was in Belphegor's room.

There was no point in sugar-coating it. Bel's room was a nightmare. It always looked like a college dorm after three-days of hardcore partying, but to be fair, at least it wasn't as much of a nightmare as it had been in weeks past. Perhaps Bel was finally learning to clean up after himself. Then again, Lussuria immediately thought as he stepped over what appeared to be an iPhone with a cracked screen, perhaps not.

At least Fran's clothes were all piled in one giant heap. Belphegor tended to leave his clothes laying around his room in clusters, said clusters usually consisting of one day's outfit, sometimes two. And those clusters weren't necessarily confined to just the floor and surrounding furniture. He'd seen Belphegor's disrobing process many times: it basically consisted of the prince taking off his clothes and throwing them haphazardly over his shoulder, and wherever they landed was usually were they tended to stay, even if it meant getting a face full of underwear everytime he turned on the ceiling fan.

Lussuria shrugged at the frankly anticipated scene and went about scooping them up one by one. He was at least thankful for the fact that they, the Varia, had unanimously decided on removing the fans in favor of central air conditioning, because it was annoying to have someone else's boxers falling on your head every time you went into their room.

As he ventured further into the room, he looked to the bed. Of course, it being almost ten in the morning and Belphegor being the spoiled brat that he was, he was out cold. The prince was cocooned in layers of sheets, duvets, and pillows, making him look like a giant, royal crepe. His tiara sat on the nightstand, glistening elegantly in the few rays of sunlight that managed to get through the heavy drapes that covered the tall windows.

That was more than could be said for the bearer of the tiara, who lay not even a foot from it, drooling and snoring softly, occasionally mumbling in his sleep. Lussuria snorted. Belphegor could be so unwittingly adorable sometimes, even at his age.

Lussuria grinned as he quietly exited the room.

This was why he liked laundry day.

Because it was nice seeing his comrades acting like actual humans. They were deadly killers, but at the end of the day, they were messy and smelly and gross and dreamed about weird things, just like everyone else. It would've seemed silly to anyone else, and he would certainly never mention it to any of them, but seeing them out of assassin-mode was a much needed solidifier for not only their humanity, but his own. Simple things like doing their laundry and patching up their torn and bloodied uniforms kept him grounded.

And the butt-ogling was certainly a plus too.

* * *

><p>Side-note: I don't know if I'm entirely convinced of Google translate's accuracy, but Fran is basically telling Bel that he looks like a horse when he smiles, and that he can insult him just as good in French as he can in Italian. Yep.<p>

Until next time!

Read n'Review, please and thanks!


End file.
